The Small Boob Haiku

The blogger behind Really Great Gift Ideas requested the most brilliant request ever requested, so I had to say yes. The request was that I write a poem about small breasts. When I set out to do it, it turned out to be a lot harder than I anticipated, so for now I have a booby haiku for you. More may follow if my creative boob kicks in.

I hope you like it!


“The Small Boob Haiku”

Proudly small and pert
A part of you to cherish
Our glorious breasts

We Survive

We wake

rise and shine

but our lights are flickering

we eat

vultures in the haze

the taste is bitter yet we swallow

we roam

aimless and silent

our legs grow tired sooner than before

we sit

thinking and still

thoughts of then and when never now

we sleep

broken and lonely

our company cold as death

we live

lungs breathing heart beating

this is how we survive.


Daily prompt from The Daily Post: Survive

Her Impression

The clothes I wear make me feel like I’m acting. Accompanied by a smile that tells no fewer lies. They only ever asked how I felt, not what or who I felt like. But why should they. I always imagined everyone to feel just as uncomfortable. Yet I don’t see it in every pair of eyes I share a glance with across the street, in the class room, in my home. Some but not all. When I talk I don’t recognise her voice, sometimes her words sound foreign to me. People still laugh, smile, nod, they must understand her better than I do. I had a childish confidence once. Now I can only pretend to have retained it, with great effort. When I can’t keep it up they think of me as rude. My eyes can’t meet with theirs, it hurts to return their prying glances. What they see, the person they hear, that isn’t me. She wraps her arms around me and locks me tight in her embrace. She takes my place when my head and my heart can’t stand to be surrounded by people. She is the impression I present when I’m at my best. At night I hold her close and let her sleep, her cheek at my chest. Only we know the naked honesty behind the mask. I don’t mean to hide from the world. But I there’s an impenetrable wall in my mind. The door to which was sealed by mind own traitorous hand when the little girl said goodbye.


I fancied a bit of an uncensored mind exposure today, although it’s not to be taken too seriously. This is a site for creative writing after all. 

Daily prompt from The Daily Post: Impression

The Notorious

“What do you make of this one?” Roger asked. He nudged the body with his foot.

I leant over and looked into the girl’s glassy eyes. “The wounds are unmistakeable, it’s them,” I said.

Roger sighed and dragged the body through the sand. He pulled her up and over his shoulder, and asked “What are we on now?”

I flicked through my note book and scribbled down the name we found on her licence. “She’s the sixth,” I said.

“That we know of,” Roger added.

We walked to the car and Roger tossed her into the bloodstained boot. He wiped his brow and got into driver’s seat.

I rested my head back and closed my eyes. We had been collecting bodies for the past three weeks. With each new girl we found, the longer and harder the storms would rage.

“I don’t know how many more I can bury,” Roger said. “How do we stop them?”

“We reanimate her,” I said. “If that doesn’t bring them out nothing will.” I sat forward and looked across to Roger, “Let’s not waste any more time.”

He turned on the engine and we made our way to the bunker.

The girl looked peaceful. Once we had covered up her wounds you could have mistaken her for sleeping. Soon she would be awake again, and hopefully her scent would bring them to us.

I placed my hands on her chest and took a deep breath. Roger put his hands over mine and whispered a prayer.

“If you feel it slipping, stop,” he said.

“I’m bringing her back. If anything happens to me, you know what to do.”

“This isn’t worth your life,” he said. He pulled my hands away from her body. “We will find another way, I won’t lose you.”

“It’s the only option we have left. We brought them into this world, Roger, and I will die taking them out.”


There’s nothing better than a speed write to get the creative mind spinning. Who knew a daily prompt could create a world ending species? I’ll definitely be working with the Notorious again in the future, this was a fun one to write. Thanks for reading!

Daily prompt from The Daily Post: Notorious

Your Lies

 

Their lies become your lies

What you need, who you are

Everything they want you give to them

believing it to be for the best

receiving nothing in return

Time cements lies into values

and truth tellers become extremists

Harming others is second nature

you don’t need excuses

it’s just how it is now

their lies tell you it’s okay and you believe it

I stand up to tell you there is another way

but you mock me back down

their lies are your lies now

your lies are the only truth you hear

My truth is offensive

it threatens to crumble the mountain of lies

built up over years of manipulation

closing minds and slamming doors

their lies kill hope and freedom

but you believe it is better than the alternative

an alternative no one knows

yet everyone despises

How much longer can the world last

breathing in the lies that you inherited

suffering torture dressed as tradition

watching its children bleed and cry

how much longer will you live by your lies?


I’ll be working on this one, I think it deserves more time than a few minutes of speed writing. It has the potential to really hit upon a lot of what I’ve been trying to speak out for recently, so you might be seeing Your Lies again in the near future.

Daily prompt from The Daily Post: Farce