#NaPoWriMo2024 #day3 #sickday

 

Sick day

Hammered, but not really, it’s moulded plastic, meant to look like beaten metal.  The feel is all wrong.  I clutch it closely.  Yellow bile, taste of turmeric.  Thoughts race.  Contact new boss, old boss, try to communicate the day, what can go ahead in my absence.  Cancel meet up.  Email.  Panic that they won’t see the email.  That there will be a wasted trip.  Reputational damage.  Slump.  I’ve done what I can do.  In the grand scheme will any of this matter?  Some days are seized.  Some days just slip.  All the gripping won’t change that.  Empty bowl, rinse, bleach, wipe.  Surrender.

#NaPoWriMo2022 #day3 #IRiseAbove

Of prompt today, with another tiny Tanka, a) because I am off adventuring and b) I've been on the gin and the glossa seems too complicated for my lil socially lubricated brain to manage. 

"Every day… Every day, I rise above it, the things people say. I walk into a room or down a street, and I see the way people look at me, and the things they say, and I rise above, because I trained myself to'.

Anne Lister 

To sit at her desk.

Think of her rising above. 

How her example 

inspired countless others,

nothing is impossible.

#smokemirrorsandrainbows #NaPoWriMo2021 #day3

Smoke, mirrors and rainbows

You could say

we live in politically acrid times.

Smoke and mirrors.

Harsh on the lungs,

lips taste bitter gall

my eyes sting.

Some are wearing

masks out of respect

for the collective.

Some fear 

trespasses on civil liberties. 

All choking on something.

Rolling up sleeves

or vocally denying efficacy

Rock and hard place.

Faded window rainbows,

we scrawled for the NHS.

Seems a lifetime ago.

Prismatic refracted light

symbolically bridgind worlds

longing for polarisation to cease.