"I used to smoke like a chimney. Never took a vitamin in my life.

I abused my kidneys. Knew I had two so I didn't think twice.

Never ate breakfast. Then I get stoned and eat too much.

I was kinda reckless~ until I fell in l o v e .

Now I call my doctor everyday, since I met you something in me's changed.

The second that you call me yours I had something worth living for.

Now I'm scared of planes and heart attacks. If I die I'll never get you back

You

make

me

a hypochondriac"

In summer I long for winter

Wishing the barbecue's smoke

would coil into a winter mist

While wandering in the serpentine gallery

I glide instinctively to a stop

Instead of the painting's vibrant strokes

I wish for stains of black and grey

Within the rows of brand new piano books

squeezed into dark corners

I wish for some leathery bindings and pale prints

Though the fresh paper cuts somehow

fascinate

As waves of slow hymns seep through the gates

I only wish to hum hurriedly and headfirst

to myself

Oh baby mine, what can I do?

The darkness has a hold of you-

Bubonic plague, remove the child-

Unloose the babe you have defiled!

Delivery of lifelessness 

Is what you left as I confess

A ghost is all that you may see,

However, with eternity 

Amazing secrets are revealed.

The truth released is not concealed,

And I am here to challenge Death-

Return my child the gift of breath,

For I am pressing in to steal 

The life you take and as I heal

An infant, come and wrestle me-

Oh Death, I offer openly-

Return the fullness of his health,

And I will garnish you with wealth.

You cannot bargain with a ghost?

Contentious fool, you choose to boast?

Unfortunate that you decline.

Remorse shall be your concubine!

The baby you have come to kill

I cannot pass into your will.

Prepare to meet a different fate-

Relinquish him from heaven's gate!

Unhallowed beast, a robe adorned 

Is nothing to a woman scorned

For fury of a hellish Saint 

Enrages black, the color, quaint,

About your body, nothing new.

Oh yes, my god, I know the view-

A mass of skeletons connive

Unless, of course, I did survive

To cling to life, a purpose, serve

The baby who does not deserve

To forfeit life at your behest-

Oh really, now I pass the test?

And what, I wonder, willingly,

Consider you eternally?

Oh, God above does not agree,

And though a pagan and a tree

Consist of who I used to be,

Destruction of this devilry 

Enlists a mother, riddled plea-

Corrupting sickness now must flee!

Away and haunt us here no more-

The child my heart and soul adore

Escapes your grip as in a word,

Resists the measure he has heard,

For Odin's sake, the ravens fly,

Insisting that no child shall die-

Oh Death, take me and haul me off-

No longer shall my baby cough!

Around him, see my light engage,

And though your grimace full of rage

I cannot see in skull bound teeth,

I feel your presence like a wreath 

About my neck hung like a noose-

Away! My child is free; is loose!

The measure of the rising sun

Ensures me now your wrath is done

For we are fading in the light,

And as we go, I win the fight.

A baby coos; a nurse maid calls,

So long, sweet boy, your mother falls

As Death and I disperse beyond,

Forever know we have a bond.

A knight arriving joins the fray;

Enables you for brighter days.

Unknown dimensions call me north,

And still I linger back and forth.

A mother's love can conquer all,

So as I pass beyond the wall,

The mark upon your heart I give

Repels the plague that you may live.

Remember me and do not grieve-

I smile as Death and I must leave.

Oh baby mine, forget me not.

A corpse may wither, stink, and rot,

However love is never far-

A simple thought and where you are

So, too, am I- now rest my dear,

And never worry, fret, or fear

Or delve into the realm of strife.

I leave you with the gift of life ...

blackberries

are miniature grapes

just like broccoli

are miniature trees,

and holy shit

does

that

make

them

taste

better

thing is,

they go along better

with beer

than with wine

and

I don't know why

The Moon has a name, and it is Selene. She may rule the night, but she casts a sinful glare upon the earth. For the only reason she is seen; is by borrowed Light from the Sun. The Sun so freely gives the glow to the Moon asking nothing in return, but Selene hovers in silent animosity over the Oceans. Upon the rippling surface she stares at her own reflection, seeing herself basked in brightness that is not her own.

It's times like this during the quiet stillness of early morning that Sam feels barely alive. In the moments of the half light, when the sun begins to overtake the moon. Pure blackness giving way to shadows that bend and stretch into elongated forms. His mind drifts between fiction and fantasy. Jumping the distance of reality and his dreams. Back and forth. Back and forth. A nightmarish seesaw as pain and anxiety begin sinking their hooks into his resurfacing mind.

His eyelids peel back across the hazel irises, which too seem to be locked in a never ending battle as to which is the dominate color. He can barely make out the popcorn ceiling now. But he has memorized the landscape of its backdrop from the years of depression and boredom, and in its plainness he hates it for all that it is.

He feels the attack coming on, as it usually does. It happens when the numbness of his sleep leaves the body and he's bordering on fully awake. His tongue feels thick in his mouth, like there is not enough space to house it. Sam registers that the sheets seem to be constricting him. Tightening around his extremities. He fights his way out, tearing the suffocating blankets from his skin. He is sweating in the cold room, and he squints through his right eye, the one that sees clearest at the moment, searching his surroundings. Where are they? Where are they? Where are they? His brain repeats his desperate need like a mantra over and over. He needs to calm himself. Sam takes a breath, the air tastes putrid and stale as it sweeps across his tongue.

He opens the drawer, and sees them. His slender fingers grasp the lighter, then the needle, and finally the spoon.

These buildings stand,

Where once were trees,

The wind is sad,

Yet no one sees:

Bees and sparrows crying shrill

Earth is shaking, won’t be still,

Volcanoes erupt, tsunamis come,

Beautiful houses rubble become.

Drought devours, flashfloods feed,

Trembling children are in need,

Some are roast, while some freeze,

Stakes are high, yet no one sees.

So earth demands a promise steep,

That, woods are lovely, dark and deep,

And miles to go before we sleep,

And miles to go before we sleep!

- nehasri

#classicpoem #ProseChallenge52 #twist #itslit #moderninterpretation #RobertFrostP.S.: This is how I think the classic poem 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' by Robert Frost can be re-interpreted to suit the modern times. A grave situation faces us and I believe this challenge is really apt for this interpretation.