Inspired by Pooky’s Poetry Prompt: Pyramid
padlocks
solid and firm
linking and connecting
two souls happily on a bridge
together forever
in the city
of love.
Author: Charlie Alford
I like to think I'm a story teller. I love stories. I believe the world is filled with stories just waiting to be told and learned. I enjoy travelling down the road less travelled, with my iPhone and journal in each hand. Here you'll find all my poetic musings... Enjoy!
When I was a little girl…
When I was a little girl I would wander
through ancient woods and historic villages
admiration, reverence, longing to know
wishing, praying I could travel through time
with a yearning of how we got here.
Now, I flick through records and photographs
curious wonderment in my brown eyes
watching the branches stretch into history
stories of miners and farm labourers.
It really was another world.
If I was born in Victorian England
I might be a maid in the houses of Chelsea
or a farmers daughter without a trade
trying my hardest to simply exist.
Just another face in the crowd.
As the lines falter through time’s trees
mysteries remain; never to be resolved.
Ancestors circling around the globe
India, Australia, Wales and home
bequeathing a nomadic legend.
Inspired by one of my favourite television shows Who Do You Think You Are? and my passion for researching my ancestry.
Feel free to share...
The Inbetween.
Every day – opening and closing;
hours spent shutting out this world
caught up in her own in between.
Trapped in repetitive imagery
paralysed by the same expressions
she escapes into Narnia.
Opens her world of black ravens
whistling over an ocean breeze
a melody of her young soul.
Every day – opening and closing
Eyes anchor the in-betweens.
Todays poem inspired by Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 34 – Doors
Feel free to share...
Unplugged
My iPad is a portal to reality
connecting, exploring, talking
I am the writer of this world
Lost in – Who? What? Where?
I just had to unplug.
Food processors are evil
itchy little finger – torture
stands to attention in plaster
my delicious cupcakes altered
I can taste the tears on my face
my nerves screaming
the smell of failure lingering.
Later, Winter – she plucked me
from a rather fake Autumn
evolution of Australian weather
“Sautumn” turned to “Wautumn”
just like the flip of a switch.
I said it would happen.
Unplugged from my reality
Now, Unplugged from humanity
exiled to the same four walls
sniffling, coughing, mostly sleeping
reading Allegiant.
As the great machine of Melbourne
operates without me.
Soon – I will be back within my faction
fuelled by coffee and bagels
iPad is plugged in and ready to go
another week begins – tomorrow.
Due to little-finger-related technical difficulties I’ve found writing (even typing!) difficult so I took the opportunity to step away from my daily writings/musings to reconnect with the real world around me. Mother Nature, had different plans I was struck with a cold and ordered to rest. So I’ve been sleeping, reading, and resting for days now with a barely a word spoken to another human being. I wonder if the world has changed while I’ve been away… 😉
Feel free to share...
OneDayOneWorld – 2pm
Taken and written for the One Day One World project – where one hour of a day is captured around the world 🙂
2pm
Between lunch and tea
the sun hovers in the west
a post-it party
bustling below the window
humanity progresses.
Feel free to share...
Thoughts of an enigmatic spectator
She is an enigmatic spectator
perplexed by this impossible game.
Never knowing when the bell will toll.
Never knowing when darkness will fall.
She wants. She wants to be… here.
She is an enigmatic spectator.
Pretending to know what she’s doing
expectant of something to happen
clutching to the tails of reality
afraid of letting go
and falling into oblivion.
She is an enigmatic spectator.
This global animation is a party
and she dreams of her place in the light.
She is a story destined for the stars
living and learning
hoping – this dance never ends.
She is an enigmatic spectator.
Feel free to share...
Rhyme and Reason: Why give the taxman more money?
Storm clouds gather around this sky scraper
why must every day feel like a battle
all we’re asking – is look at the papers
there is more to it than just tattle.
Have you dreamt of sailing around the world?
Or buying a cottage out on the bay?
Or creating as your golden years twirled?
Living out your life – free- day to day?
Monkey Man would have you chained to your desk
trapped and imprisoned in the daily grind
ol’ weary travellers will have no rest
till they reach fifty years – having served time.
Why give all your money to the taxman?
Wealthy – he’s like the mouse that got the cheese.
Why wait till later? Why not make a plan?
Earn some money now not lose it on fees.
Monkey man is not going to help you
he’ll have you work till your six feet under
So pull it together, let it accrue
it is your future; not that Mans plunder.
***
Prompt: Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 19 – Rhyme and Reason
Feel free to share...
St. Kilda Pier
Pausing above the breakwater
on the edge of St. Kilda Pier
capture a father and daughter
tangled in photography gear.
Her pink scarf dances in the breeze
as her world falls behind the trees.
In the shadows with bells and chimes
she stops being guarded by time.
Enchanted by the soft whistles
emerging from the creaking boats.
Posts, etched in sailors initials
tells the stories of life afloat.
Raptures of little blue penguins
Modeling for their human friends
nestle themselves in the deep rocks
quiet and safe along the docks.
Feel free to share...
Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 16: School Days
Inspired by Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 16:
Bomber jacket over navy blazer
black gothic hair and skeleton satchel
conversations about vampires and ghosts
scrawled across feeble exercise books.
Walking north to a religious prison
resistance was met and judged by Fathers
asking about Church attendance on Sunday
and expectations of Confirmation.
School was like society’s theatre
marionettes performing to loud bells
and playground whistles choreographing
a sea of blue polo tops and black shorts.
I stood in the wings, the old science block
was my home for three years, Guildford Rd site
Copying math homework and writing poems
I still can’t believe I failed English class.
The best days were further down this long road
Sixth Form found a brown-eyed girl called Charlie
where love and friendship began its journey
happy in her individuality.
Feel free to share...
Thoughts on Life
Inspired by Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 15 – The Meaning of Life
Sitting on the stone steps of Parliament House
in my warm grey coat and snuggly scarf
clutching to my hot vanilla chai latte
as I watch brown leaves floating in the wind.
What a marvellous moment to be here!
To see, the world tick-tocking like clockwork.
Chatter echoes from the crowded cafes
as the trams jingle their morning songs.
Sometimes I stop – listen – and wonder
it’s a funny thing we do everyday
existing and living; playing the game
Is there meaning? And it’s not forty-two.
It feels like a never-ending story
where we’re born in the middle – missing
pieces of the beginning – a puzzle
that we spend our lives trying to work out.
Some say there are three things; life, death, taxes
but I think it’s human architecture
life for me, is Mufasa and Simba
it’s the story of how we all connect.
In a giant globe of activity
this world is an enigmatic story
that happens to feature humanity
and stepping on a butterfly changes history.
Sitting on the stone steps of Parliament House
in my warm grey coat and snuggly scarf
clutching to my hot vanilla chai latte
as I watch brown leaves floating in the wind.
What a marvellous moment to be here!
To see, the world tick-tocking like clockwork.
Chatter echoes from the crowded cafes
as the trams jingle their morning songs.
Sometimes I stop – listen – and wonder
it’s a funny thing we do everyday
existing and living; playing the game
Is there meaning? And it’s not forty-two.
It feels like a never-ending story
where we’re born in the middle – missing
pieces of the beginning – a puzzle
that we spend our lives trying to work out.
Some say there are three things; life, death, taxes
but I think it’s human architecture
life for me, is Mufasa and Simba
it’s the story of how we all connect.
In a giant globe of activity
this world is an enigmatic story
that happens to feature humanity
and stepping on a butterfly changes history.
Charlie Ann Alford 
You must be logged in to post a comment.