On Fresh Rain, Doki Doki Dawns, Developing Friendships, Gentle Beginnings, Bronze Cauldrons and One Thousand Roast Dinners

A poetry collection from KTHT weekly prompts

Monday: Fresh rain brings hope

Away

Fresh rain brings hope a soft drip drop into growing puddles ripple effect obscuring our reflections washing away the stains of the previous night, the previous season.

Author’s note: As I write “stains” I think of one particular friend, M., who is deep into the rabbit hole of listening to True Crime podcasts and certainly would interpret this poem a certain way. In this piece though, I’m thinking of rain as a fresh beginning, washing away the dirt and grime that accumulates on sidewalks. Particularly in Canada, snowbanks are pretty for about one day but then progress slowly into a messy sludge of dirt. Though heavy rains sure put a damper on any fun outside barbecue activities, it also brings hope to wash away this accumulation, readying us for a clean new beginning.

Tuesday: The heart is like a beacon of joy

doki doki

Dawn streams through the windows opening up the day, a kissing me awake with gentle light I rise;

dancing in my heart are our moments together — memories — despite apart knowing that soon, you and I will get those moments again.

Author notes: This one is dedicated to my partner as we are in a long-distance relationship. I wake up in the morning alone, usually to sunlight, and usually think of him. Luckily, in the year 2021 I don’t have to rely on slow-moving letters to connect. I can quickly call him with the click of one button for that sweet morning call as we both get ready.

Also yes, in the theme of “heart”, this is technically an acrostic poem that spells doki doki, which harkens back to the 2021 meme you make my kokoro go doki doki.

Translator’s notes kokoro — means heart in Japanese doki doki — sound of a heartbeat in Japanese keikaku — means plan, as in, “just according to keikaku*”

Wednesday: What aspect of my life should I leave to develop on its own?

Tangerine Trees in Snow

After three decades of trying perhaps I’m realizing that I perhaps put too much effort into friendships.

To clarify — friendships do take work, they need care and nurturing, water and sun.

But perhaps sometimes I expect every seed planted to grow and get lost in the process when tangerine seeds won’t grow in this cold climate, forcing something against nature by thinking that if I simply placed more effort more care more nurture more water more sun then perhaps there should be results.

I forget that sometimes the fit isn’t quite right and it was simply never meant to be;

perhaps it is time to let go of the hope to plant a tangerine shrub in a place that snows

and instead, nurture simpler gardens.

Author’s note: Does anyone else feel this way? I know that adult friendships are much harder to form than childhood ones, so to some degree, I do expect nurturing these given this context. But sometimes, I feel lost in the expectations, finding myself in non-reciprocal friendships that don’t feel right. I think especially in the pandemic and especially after graduation, you cannot measure interactions on a reciprocity ledger — we are all overwhelmed and stressed.

But perhaps it was because of this pandemic that I realized these patterns were not solely existing in the context of disaster. They were long-formed patterns of taking but no give. And perhaps there are valid reasons, and perhaps at one time, I had the resources to give without receiving support. Perhaps in the future I may have the resources to do so again.

But at this time I realized I needed friendships that are two-ways, as I both deserve and need support too. And that is why I’m choosing to nurture the reciprocal friendships, and let the non-reciprocal develop on their own.

Most likely, the non-reciprocal ones, without my conscious effort to stay connected, will die off. Maybe something will change in either of us in the future that changes this dynamic. Maybe it won’t. But I’m now letting it do its own thing.

Thursday: The tender and the exuberant dawning of a new beginning

Rude or Gentle Awakening?

Contrast the abrupt BRIIIIIIIIIIING~ BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!!!!! of a harsh phone alarm

to waking up to a gentle and gradual rising of a sun (artificial or real), the chirping of birds, gently easing into your consciousness.

I celebrate and appreciate those moments of quiet awakenings as the tender but exuberant beginnings to every new day.

Author’s note: So technically, I still encounter the harsh rings of a phone alarm sometimes as my tool of awakening, but as mentioned above, it’s actually more likely to be my boyfriend waking up me up via phone to a phone call (because for some reason he wakes up at 6am every day? regardless of what time he goes to bed???). Not to be gushy but being absolutely gushy, the fact that I get to see his face balances out the ring.

My ideal though, is that I’m already 60–80% awake because the sun is shining on my face but my soul is pretending the night has not ended yet. When that phone call is timed exactly in this period, the morning is 300% perfect.

Friday: What sort of internal alchemy is happening to me?

Bronze Legs, Purple Fire

bubbling like a cauldron purple fire licking up the bronze legs,

the contents of my innards jiggle and squiggle around, sloshing an unpleasant goop.

are we cooking up a burp? or is this mild food poisoning? am I nauseous of anxiety? or am I somehow pregnant?

some kind of concoction is happening ready to hatch its sinister plan.

Author’s note: I don’t know if this is just the new reality of entering my late twenties (which I know is not that old), but damn, do I miss living ailment-free in my early teens and young adulthood. I’ve been having this weird “butterfly in stomach” feeling for days in a way that’s not severe enough for meds or a doctor’s visit, but is just inconvenient enough for me to sit and think about all the things I may have done wrong to lead up to this horrid feeling.

In all honesty, it could just be a burp ready to turn into a hiccup because I, as a human being, do not know how to burp. Who knows?

Weekend: Use your spark to build a fire

From Spark to Roast Dinner

Ignite and burn, fizzle, re-ignite, repeat —

this spark has struck a thousand, million, gajillion times, ideas burning bright, all 300 small and 700 big ideas bursting in every which direction.

It is time for these sparks to become a steady burning fire, to warm us and roast us delicious dinners.

Author’s note: This is a cheeky little poem related to my earlier tweet realizing that I have 300 unwritten poetry prompts logged in a Google Sheets and 700 pages of ideas and outlines for long-form articles partially written.

It’s time for me to transform these sparks (my strengths as a writer) into a steady stream of written pieces for the world to savour. Will I make it? Stay tuned to find out!

Also, this is part 2 of an earlier poem named “Spark” that I wrote in January!

Thank you for reading this far! I’m Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她) and I want to thank 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊. for this week’s weekly prompt, inspiring prompts and weekend prompts. These prompts are such a healing aspect of my Sunday as they always ask the deepest questions to urge us as writers to dig deep and reflect.

Hop down the rabbit hole? 🐰🕳

^ from Suzanne V. Tanner