Her mind does not have a default setting,
It’s a spag bowl of anarchic thoughts
Rich in flavour and strong in vetting
The myriad of moments her eyes have caught.
Categorising from thumbs up to thumbs down
pushed an acquaintance from friend to foe
Like a cut apple beginning to brown
A shrivelling font, a footnote, in her bio.
Once upon a time in a far off place
Happy never after faded on the page
Standing tall she continued with grace
And exited left off his centre stage.
Her mind took a second to think and grieve
but the sun rose again, now she can breathe.
Category: Family
What have you been up to since high school?
I’ve been doing that thing called learning.
Every day I have begun again.
My life is like a candle burning.
In the fires, I have found my Zen.
I live in a world filled with anarchy.
I have battled the front lines of darkness.
I have stood with my friends in unity.
I have fought to bring back their sparkle.
I have studied Durkheim, Weber and Jung.
Travelled the world with Mr Bryson.
Found Shakespeare in a crowded room
and Chesterton in darkest London.
I’ve climbed atop Arthurs Seat (Scotland),
and rode a plastic cart down the Great Wall.
I’ve drunk Champagne on the banks of the Seine
and got lost in a Kowloon mall.
I’ve driven along Australian highways
in my beautiful Red Capri,
I’ve swum about Port Phillip Bay
and watched the stars on the drive to Sydney.
I’ve felt the emptiness of waiting rooms
and drunk coffee that tastes like piss
I’ve felt the skies roar with thunderous booms
peace and miracles are my Christmas wish.
I’ve worn different characters and costumes,
they have called me Chum, Alice and Red.
The weirdest one was in a ballroom,
and like Cinderella, I danced and fled.
I have laughed until I’m blinded by tears,
and cried till I couldn’t breath
moments made memories through the years
of my friends, my family and me.
What have I been doing since high school?
Well, simply put, it’s just like this
I’ve been playing the game, learning the rules,
creating memories to reminisce.
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Ode to an old photograph
Nestled in between some ageing letters
the bright young face of a family tree
captured time is a historic treasure
another life for my great Welsh granny.
Why did you girls cross the River Severn
and pitch your tents on England’s mighty shore
starting a trend of nomadic children
far from the valleys we found our heaven
London, Surrey, and the Devonshire moor
exchanging tales on the pavilion.
You left the world before I could breathe
before you eldest son had a daughter
You are a fairytale I want to believe
studying every corner of your picture.
I have the copper hair that curls and twirls
I have the deep hazel eyes of wonder
I have the Welsh blood running through my veins
and with every dream of this little girl
your memory echoes like a roar of thunder
in your granddaughters hearts you shall remain.
Written for Writing 201
Drawer (things you find inside) > Ode > Apostrophe (talking to someone or an object)
The person I am talking to in this poem is my grandmother, Iris. She married my grandfather shortly after the war leaving Wales behind and travelling the world while my grandfather continued to serve in the army. She passed away a year before I was born leaving behind six granddaughters and two grandsons. Four of whom she never met or knew existed. I have an old photograph of her for as long as I can remember and have always admired it quiet curiosity.
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Carpe Dium
I see you in our little coastal town
a photo awakens a reels of memories
of childhood antics on rocky beaches
and Welsh mountains that we would race down.
A traveller of the last century
I remember how you could spin a yarn
We would laugh at your terrible acting
every moment you made legendary.
Written across a tattered birthday card
printed like a human type writer
said the infamous words “Carpe Dium”
words that are tattooed in my mind and soul
as the world twists and turns without you.
Inspired by We Drink Because We’re Poets prompting us to reawaken a so-called dead language via a Latin proverb. I chose ‘Carpe Dium’ meaning to Seize the Day.
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#NaPoWriMo Day TwentyFive – “Dear Sir…”
Todays prompt was inspired by my other interest in researching my family history. The journey took me and my dad to the New Forest where we found the church my great great great grandparents were married (and presumably) buried in. I remember sitting in the churchyard thinking about what I would say to them if I could…
Dear Sir
Looking out from St Andrews
last May – it was a lovely day
the sky brushed in shades of blue
we’d been wandering the forest
studying Landford – tracing
you – on an ancestral quest.
We found you on this country hill
reaching up into the heavens
coated in yellow daffodils.
The world you knew is history
the young’uns migrated to the Smoke
why it’s all a mystery…
But, here stands the same ol’ church
of course in your time it was new
much like that weary silver birch.
Are you in the breeze about these stones?
Listening to my quiet whispers
as I ponder this place – your home.
Do you know we are related?
I’m your grand daughter’s grand daughter
and wanted to say hello – albeit belated.
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#NaPoWriMo Day Nineteen – “a weeping angels woe”
Alone in the churchyard I watch
mortals mourning in tears and flowers.
Leaning against a rowan tree
abandoned by my family.
Beneath my feet a girl is weeping
I open my arms and kneel down
In surprise, she looks up at me
screaming like a startled crow.
She runs back through the stone and grass
reaching out to her, I follow
She turns to me – her eyes are cold
and zap – she’s now in the past.
Falling through time – I am weeping;
my eyes hidden behind grey fingers.
Left within eternal sleeping
this is where my Winter lingers.
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#NaPoWriMo Day Six “Home”
#NaPoWriMo Day Five “Tin of Air”
Today’s challenge was inspired by this Gogh painting which reminded me of a story my dad told me about my great-grandfather and the long line of Welsh coal miners in our family. The poem itself is still a work in progress but I thought I’d share what I have so far…
Jus’ a weary Welshman, these days
sittin’ quietly in me lounge chair
all the young’uns are around me
they don’t know me tale, they don’t care.
Young ‘arry came up from London
now, spittin’ image of his mam
can’t be more than six or seven
such a clever little man!
“Bore da, Grandad” he says to me
and looks up with is bright blue eyes
he asks me about me birthday
me tears I try hard to disguise.
Give us a tin of air, me son
so I can speak without getting puffed.
Give us a tin of air, me son
so I can stop feelin’ so stuffed.
Me heart belongs to the valleys.
Me lungs belongs to the mines.
Me legs belong to the colliery’s.
Me soul, is jus’ a prisoner of time.
Jus’ that weary Welshman, these days
rockin’ quietly in me chair
all I want for me birthday son:
“Jus’ get us a big tin of air”
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For my mum
Brown bear, you were there before I could walk
Before I could laugh; before I could dream;
Brown bear, you were there before I could talk;
Before I could cry; before I could scream.
My life story in intertwined with yours
We unearthed the world one step at a time
We climbed hills and walked across the moors
Our corner of the world was so sublime.
Seasons have turned and I’ve grown like a tree
I’ve flown the nest; I work in the city;
But here you are! Still watching over me
Just how nature intended it to be.
There is just one thing I would like to say;
Thank you mother, for being there, always.
Notes:
1. Photo taken from http://www.bitstrips.com/ – one of my latest Facebook-related addictions. It’s really fun and useful when wanting to wind up your mates 😉
2. Mum, you said you preferred poems that rhymed so I wrote this one just for you :p
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Charlie Ann Alford 
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