Floating stories like balloons in the sky
Revelling in their strong silver linings.
Imagining the shoes of someone else,
Entwining and binding the quirks of us.
Never be the one that I used to know
Don’t leave me. I can’t let you go.
Category: Friendship
Nothing happened
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.
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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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#iamgrateful for my friend
You are the needle to my thread
You are my greatest mystery
You are the voice inside my head
You are the co-author to my story.
You see me where I’m standing
You keep me on my feet
You hear me when I’m whispering
You narrate our lives in tweets
We dance like no ones watching
We sing to the highest note
We laugh until we’re crying
We wrote a book of silly quotes
I’m thankful that I met you
I’m thankful you’re my friend
I’ll never ever forget you
ours is a story, without an end.
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#NaPoWriMo Day TwentyThree – “Talking Brunswick Street”
Inspired by http://www.napowrimo.net prompt: ‘New York School’ poems. I don’t think it’s finished. But is a poem ever really finished…
It’s 8am on Tuesday and I am on the tram
you could say: it’s just Monday 2.0
so naturally I’m late and it’s raining – damn!
Is it sunny over there? I bet it is, laughing at me
I bet you’ve been doing a rain dance secretly.
It’s against the law to make it rain here, seriously!
Oh, I’m just crouched on the cold metal steps
looking out on a washed out Brunswick Street
it’s moving ever so slowly! Mmm… I can smell the coffee and crepes!
I can see Fitzroy-ans dancing through trams and cars
in a sea of boots, poncho’s and umbrellas
in a long narrow valley of cafes, shops and bars.
Lights are flickering in the old comic book store
Oh Marty, ‘Back to the Future’ is now
your movie is so old it predates Persy’s next door.
Posters and banners flapping in chilly wind
will we ever escape the daggy dolls we were yesterday
when fun was getting off our faces and succumbing to sins.
Don’t stop the music and oh, just dance
the numb blur of college life, I don’t remember
except when we dreamt of moving to the south of France.
But 2014, oh, a communication revolution
look at us talking wirelessly from either side of the world
Can you hear me? Wait, can you see me? Technological evolution.
Mr Asmiov hit the metaphorical nail on the head:
“humanity will go into hibernation” – indeed
it’s true what the 1960’s sci-fi guy predicted.
Speaking of, did you know it’s illegal to trade with pirates
here, so if we upload, download and freeload
aren’t we essentially criminals – just open-closet-pirates.
Think about it – I’ll peruse my books
while washed out Brunswick Street starts its day
in one of Melbourne’s much loved coffee nooks.
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Inspired by Shakespeare
Friends
Summer storms through the silly season
And I am my own fashion treason.
Asleep in my hoodie and flip flops,
Cropped leggings and blue Whovian top.
At my desk the universe lights up
But a first thing first, where’s my Garfield cup?
On my phone is a little image
So my sleepy eyes start to scrimmage.
An old photo of a time and place
Where five girls are caught in an embrace.
They look up at me from yesterday
Far. Far, away from this port side bay.
Those were the days of Pimms and flowers,
Best friends, and summer showers.
Gone are those days of dancing till dawn,
Getting drunk, waking up on the lawn.
No we’re closer to the big 3-0
Alarm clocks and coffee run the show
Dancing along the trapeze of life
As friend, worker, mother, sister, wife…
The world has spun a few times or more
Since I was last knocking at your door
But no matter how far we all roam
That time, that place, will always be home.
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Family
Here in the urban jungle
The urban monkeys play
They laze in their paradise
Escaping the urban day.
They sit within the branches
Above the earth below
Sharing a story or two
Of a world they need not know.
Late, in the darkness of night
They venture down the trunk
They swing into the golden arches
Obviously very drunk.
When they are sitting in their tree
They skull the liquids of the night
Dancing to the urban dream
Until the morning light.
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College
Just for fun…
We come from different places
London, Rosebud, Tamworth and Yea.
We must have enjoyed the faces
because we decided to stay. 8
Badger likes to hibernate
and Turtle likes to dream,
the Moose offers mandates
which makes the Birdie scream.
We have a home on second east
a group of assorted creatures
coming home to enjoy our feast
after a day with the preachers.
We are found in the hall
when lights dim in the sky
singing the jungle call
as people pass us by.
Strangers do not understand us,
we are the crazy creatures
Always willing to make a fuss
from the top of the school bleachers.
Charlie Ann Alford 
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