By: Brenna Renée Prather
By: Brenna Renée Prather
By: Brenna Renée Prather
And so it draws to a close.
It has been years since I wrote consistently every day. When I was young, I wrote every day because I loved it, but as I grew up, quality seemed to be more important to me than fueling my passion regularly. I became a victim to the belief that you must “wait for your muse to come”.
I might as well have waited for my Prince Charming/Knight in Shining Armour to show up while I was at it.
I’d say for sure that this month taught me that it isn’t about always churning out good stuff, because the reality is, you will make crappy poetry. No matter what. But it’s better to exercise that writing muscle and then look to find the great lines. The fabulous lines. Find the lines that really strike out. And then those lines, you can use elsewhere. Or not at all. It’s all up to you.
In any event, I will definitely try to write everyday now, whether it’s a poem, to-do list, story, or otherwise.
Without further ado, here are the poems for Week Four:
A new horizon, I look beyond the veil.
I will finally a part of this new world,
and then suddenly,
it’s like slipping on glass
& swallowing razor blades.
Into the darkness.
I am swallowed down.
Cool at the surface.
Dancing around you,
tip-toe-ing over daisies.
We stand so close
I can barely breathe.
Am I a part of you?
Can I let you in?
….Coca Cola like it was nothing…
like black ink,
spreads through my veins,
consuming me whole….
and an old pair of dirty boots
Dirty in the air,
crystals in my lungs.
I miss the smell of you
in my lungs…
Stay safe and insane, my dears ❤
I’d have to say that this has been one of the most difficult weeks I have had in a long time. Not only have I been grieving, which is like trekking through an unknown jungle – you don’t know what it’ll do to you – but I was also going through an interview process for a new job doing custom alterations. About two hours after Rosey passed on, I got the phone call asking me to come in. Since then, I have accepted the position and had my first shift yesterday.
In a way, I feel as though Rosey passed on in order for me to really start becoming the person I need to be, and who I always wanted to be. I miss her so much and love her with all my heart, which is quite evident through all of these poems and excerpts, but I am excited and intrigued to see what the world has in store for me now.
“When a chapter ends, a new one begins.”
Here are my poems and excerpts from Week Three:
A sniffle. And a cough.
My tiny little friend, I worry about you often,
but especially now, as you sputter little garden hose & hack up slime.
Poor baboo. Get well soon.
Cannot write tonight, because without you, I am nothing.
….and there you were.
Rubbing on me.
Gods, it felt so real
Today was a lot of firsts,
But I know now that you will always be here.
I love you ❤
Counting the days I survive
Hoping one day
I don’t need
to count the days away.
…Thank you for visiting me in the night. Please don’t stop.
So much laughter. So much new.
“When one chapter ends, another begins.”
I know you are with me always.
I love you. ❤
A Dust in the darkness,
a walk alone.
Through the sands,
toes covered in sand,
White dress dancing
And a calm.
Thanks for stopping by and having a read. Lots of love.
Stay safe and stay insane.
I wish I could start this whole thing off on a light note. But unfortunately, my cat, my little girl, Rosey Posey Prather, died this morning. It was quite sudden.
She lived a good long life. She would have been 17 this coming August.
She was my birthday present in the first grade. When I opened this big box, I found that it was filled with cat toys and food dishes. I was so thrilled. My birthday is during the week of Christmas, so we waited until the first week of January to go to our local humane society to pick a cat out. January 7th, to be exact. I knew I wanted a black cat and it had to be a girl. I walked in and looked around at all the cats – and there she was.
A little tuxedo cat, about 6 months old. She was the only girl in the whole room, and her sister had been adopted the day before. She reached out to me, and my life was never the same. We were two peas in a pod. It might sound silly to some people, but she was my first best friend (after my mom, of course).
She is….was my whole world. I gave her all the love I could give her and more. She was my everything. Gods, I miss her so much already.
In honor of her,I thought I would share the entire poem I wrote about her on the first day of this month.
I know I am home
when I hear your sudden scramble
to the door & tight “meow” as
I feel safe
when I hear your stretching moan
underneath the bed at 2am.
I find it cute
when you look at me
begging for treats,
even though I just gave you 6.
It makes me laugh
when you get so picky about
“The fresher the better”.
But my favorite thing about you
is how intuitive you are,
especially after a long day –
you gracefully next to me,
a wave of purrs rush over me,
How your fur can be shiny & silky
my little Tuxedo cat.
Your sweetness reminds
me that I am not alone,
as you look @ me,
as if I am the world.
16 years have passed since
our fated meeting.
I know our love is
a ticking clock.
But my hope is that our love
will surpass us,
and maybe even the cosmos.
Love you always,
my precious Rosey. ❤
Here’s the snippets from Week Two of National Poetry Month –
Lips stained insolence,
Spilling out ignorance.
I try to wash you away.
But I guess ordinary water will not do.
Imaginary conversations sipped at 2am,
wondering when our eyes will shut
Let us remain in conversations until the lights go up.
It’s almost as though we are fire.
….I shouldn’t be wishing my skin would dissolve in the pit of my own stomach acid.
…Jumpin’ out of this sweatsuit,
into a space suit,
as I shoot off acute.
Are we brunch on a Tuesday at noon? Are we picnics placed delicately by a clear blue lake?
Heart over mouth.
Eyes go blind,
thinking of all of the stars
in your galaxies…
Give your loved ones a hug today. Value them. Love them. Stay safe and stay insane.
Thank you for all of the wonderful years we shared, Rosey.
Love you always.
When I first started writing poetry, way back in middle school, I would write every single day. In fact, I made a goal – write 5 poems every single day. I would just sit during my lunch period, or study hall if I had done all of my homework, and just write poetry. I believe I originally started doing that because I really loved writing poetry and wanted to improve my work. But then, the 8th grade hit and I grew a huge crush on this boy who rode my bus. And every day, on the bus ride home, I would show him my poems, hoping that they’d make him fall for me.
Spoiler alert: Didn’t work. At all. Actually, it freaked him out. Damn Rom Coms lied to us all of these years! Although it probably didn’t help that I also kept randomly calling his phone just to listen to his voicemail. (I was 13, okay?! I know now that that’s insane and I am so embarrassed. Sorry, dude.)
Nowadays, I usually just write a poem down in my journal as it comes into my mind. Could be every couple days, or every couple weeks. But this month, in honor of National Poetry Writing Month, I decided that I am going to write at least one poem every single day. And thus far, I have been succeeding. So here’s my favorite snippets/quotes from every day of week one.
I know I am home when I hear your sudden scramble to the door and tight greeting as I enter….
Khaki Pants. Matching hat. Long Face. 65+ easy.
What a non-threatening description for a human being.
If only his bark matched his fur.
Here’s hoping it won’t match his bite.
…An adrenaline rush, knowing my happiness destroyed his own. I was alive. I was free. But like any high, I imagine, it had to come to an end. And this high, it fell down slowly, and struck mad hard. But I will always look fondly, that year, that smell. I was free. I. Was. Alive.
….Two smiles meet, and then time – it becomes still….
Arm around you, with an S curl.
I am reminded that I am not alone in this world.
I am lost.
Uncertainty is wondering if I will brush
It’s funny how you know what you want,
the moment another swallows
….Glass-eyed, a porcelain doll waits….
Hope you all enjoyed that! It’s been so interesting to see what ideas I come up with everyday, whether they are perfect, small, or nowhere in between. If you are participating in #napowrimo as well, let me know below!
Be sure to check out my latest post about teaching a theatre design and storytelling workshop to youth students, linked here.
Stay safe, and stay crazy out there, my dears.
This past January, I was given the wonderful opportunity to teach a workshop called ‘Theatre Design Meets Storytelling’, which discussed how theatre design aids in telling a story . This has been something have wanted to do since I graduated from University at Buffalo in 2015. I am so grateful to Just Buffalo Writing Center for giving me this opportunity!
When I was doing my undergrad at University at Buffalo, I heard many colleagues in my program refer to their job as being a “storyteller”. It makes perfect sense. The stage, in my mind, is an entire novel, and each person’s job in that space is a piece to the story line. The director and playwright work together as writer and editor, the actors are the characters, and the designers create the descriptive imagery. Everyone aids the story through collaboration, which makes it such a beautiful, fascinating experience, especially for me as a writer.
Please take a look, and let me know you thoughts! I also wrote about this workshop on Just Buffalo Writing Center’s blog, which you can check it out here!