NaPoWriMo Guest Post – “The Student”

Today I am featuring a guest post from a closet-poet @kazooey13

“The Student”

I’m looking at a book that I’m supposed to read,
But my mind keeps wandering away.
Though I turn the pages over and over,
Words are refusing to stay.
My mind races. How many hours has it been?
Since I began this futile foray.
I sigh. There is nothing more can be done.
I guess I’ll be bullshitting my way.

NaPoWriMo – 18/30

"Gordon Bennett!"
smash, thud, bang
we're all laughing
rustles in the wood.
Victor Meldrew
grumpy man
"I don't believe it"
waving with his book.
Playground greetings
"Wasss-uuup"
french block windows
for checkin' out our looks.
"It'll be alright on the night"
top of the pops
and pizza hut salad
goin' down in my neighbourhood.

NaPoWriMo – 17/30

A terribly composed poem, which I’m going to pretend didn’t happen, inspired by the Dictionary of Sociology (Penguin)

An iHuman bricolage
Are you sure we’re not robots?
I’m scared of exclamation marks
and the lack of black dots.
The fear of alienation
from a world of automation
it’s my expert summation
the train has left the station.
It is a collective behaviour
to disappear into virtuality
creating a digital divide
stepping back from humanity.
Society is conflicted
with growing differentiation
and changing conversations
from the other generations.

NaPoWriMo – 16/30

A stormy stench lingers
the rain has begun to pound
the eucalypts have buckled
the roars have stirred the ground.
Flinders Street is drowning
the locals are stifled and hot
the koalas have retreated
seeking shelter at a stop.
Oops they did it again:
Man-eating lizard people
dressed in corporate suits and ties
appear on Capitol Hill.
I don’t like what I see here
an underclass of laneways
cries from the lost and forgotten;
society’s castaways.
I want to go back to daisy chains,
bursting MJ from my walkman
alongside the River Bourne
whilst writing over my hands.
I always wanted to travel,
see what the world had to show.
Now I’m painted Brunswick Street
finding love over Milo.
The greatest fear is to be lost
we need see the bigger picture
as thunder stirs above our heads
purple lightening, it will feature.

NaPoWriMo – 15/30

The last time I saw double…
Oh my, was I in trouble.

My eyes rolled inside my head
I don’t remember what I said.

I wished my lungs to keep breathing,
but my heart was over beating.

I only remember one small thing;
jager-bombs won’t give me wings.

NaPoWriMo – 14/30

San San Poem:

She stood upon Chelsea’s streets
thinking of yesterdays ghosts
as they age like fine wine.
Stories are where her ghosts meet
to share wine and a Sunday roast
drawn on an ageing page.
Chelsea is her family’s spine
Chelsea is her stage.

 

NaPoWriMo – 13/30 – Fortune Cookie Poem

Slow and steady wins the race 
remember the tortoise and the hare 
wait for the opportune moment 
time will get you from here to there.
Regret is for those who didn't try
they say it's never too late
tomorrow will knock at the door
today cannot wait.
The early bird catches the worm
but the second mouse gets the cheese
a journey begins with a single step
and an acorn becomes a tree.
A dream you have will come true
do not fear what you don't know
the simplest answer is to act
through action you will grow.

NaPoWriMo – 12/30

An A-W found poem built from Bill Bryson's 'Mother Tongue' index. 

Anglo-Saxon
barbarian tongues
cursed tablets
of double entendres.
Elizabethan,
faggots in gravy
graffiti
Henry V.
Identity;
Johnson and Americanisms
kinship finds
literary masters.
Meanings;
natural history
of our language,
private language.
Questions
rhythms, rhymes,
Shakespeare, so
trust an Englishman.
Universal language
vulgates
Westminster, Wales & Washington.




 

NaPoWriMo – 11/30

Night has fallen,
the hum of electronics
hover in my eyes
the vroom of weary cars
sigh in urban driveways
the crickets begin
a creekside melody
amidst the whooshing
of a passing 747
as I lie here
my heart thumping
my stomach gurgling
my throat scratching
my eyes tearing
my insides screaming.
I'll wake up properly tomorrow.

NaPoWriMo – 10/30

In darkest London
all that is solid
melts into air
the greatest mysteries
of the modern world
fall into the electric mist
of hunger games
and fairy tales.
Time travellers
made in America
are catching fire
in a restaurant
at the end of the universe.


Prompt: Write a “book spine” poem. This involves taking a look at your bookshelves, and writing down titles in order (or rearranging the titles) to create a poem.