Category: #NaPoWriMo2014

Posted in #NaPoWriMo2014, Life, Love

#NaPoWriMo Day Eleven – “Unrealistic Expectations”

Posted on by Charlie Alford

A little girl waited for her “true love”

Studied her reflection in the mirror

She hoped to be as lucky as Jasmine

Happy ever after was her future.

Like the caterpillar in the oak tree

She grew into a pretty butterfly

But her one true love she still searched for

she concluded Sir Walt Disney had lied.

Instead, she wandered the world like Alice

created realities of her own.

She painted with her words; coloured the wind

She flew far far away from her home.

Just like Elsa she dreamt of letting go

All her skeletons fallen and broken

She sailed along life’s crooked road, in summer

Young and free, she left no words unspoken.

Once upon a time there was a young girl

who dreamed of meeting her one true guy.

Now there is a woman weathered by life

and beneath an old oak tree, is where she lies.

Posted in #NaPoWriMo2014, England

#NaPoWriMo Day Ten – “London, Inspired by Blake”

Posted on by Charlie Alford

So for today’s challenge I decided to use William Blake’s London as my source of inspiration see here http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/172929. Don’t forget to let me know what you think! 🙂

 

London

 

Blake spoke of a wretched London

cursed by dreams of English elites.

Their world, an Orwellian dungeon

on the banks; on the city streets.

 

Still the people scream and shout

Still the people are marked with woe

Still the people wander about

Near where the chartered Thames does flow.

 

But above, the ancient houses

Eyes only see what they want to see

and treat humble peoples grouses

with no sense of propriety.

 

Is there hope for this ancient heart?

When history repeats herself.

Is there hope for her to restart?

And take her people off the shelf.

Posted in #NaPoWriMo2014

#NaPoWriMo Day Nine – “Ode to a Lava Cake”

Posted on by Charlie Alford

Lava Cake

 

I remember the first day we met

Like a thief, you’ve stolen my heart!

Rescue me from this ghastly wet

You know, you had me from the start.

Whenever the sky cries her tears

And the world becomes shades of grey

I think of you to rid my fears

Your warm embrace brightens my day.

I love your chocolatey goodness

And the way you ooze down my throat

Your awesomeness is – well – madness

hidden inside your spongy coat.

So here’s to you my lava cake

Now go away – for my diets sake!

 

 

 

 

Posted in #NaPoWriMo2014

#NaPoWriMo Day Seven – “Discovering Monday”

Posted on by Charlie Alford

Last nights colours blurred in the rain

as the bells echo in her ears;

slowly the cogs turn in her brain

but its fuzzy; nothing is clear.

Her feet reach out for the cold floor

as the world straightens in her head.

Stepping forward to the bedroom door

a mine-field; watching where she treads.

There is hope for this tired zombie

as she finds her way to the ground.

She takes a gulp from her coffee;

her state, she can now expound.

Today, is what we call Monday

a sad wretch that follows Sunday.

 

Garfield
Posted in #NaPoWriMo2014, Family, Life, Time

#NaPoWriMo Day Five “Tin of Air”

Posted on by Charlie Alford

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…

 

Vincent Van Gough
Vincent Van Gogh – Sorrowing Man

 

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”

Posted in #NaPoWriMo2014, Time

#NaPoWriMo Day Four: “Time”

Posted on by Charlie Alford

Hiding in a timeless forest

she wanders lonely as a cloud

searching for her story; her quest.

She is not another face in the crowd.

She likes to get lost in Austen.

She likes to follow The Doctor.

She dreams of tea time in Boston.

She dreams of joining The Watchers.

Every day; once upon a time

happens simultaneously.

She loves it! – Is it such a crime?

To wander the realm aimlessly?

Soon, she will find the time; the place

to give this world a warm embrace.

Posted in #NaPoWriMo2014, Australia, Life, Writing

#NaPoWriMo14 Day Three “Here and Now”

Posted on by Charlie Alford

Laneway music; apple ciders

Asian street food; Pancake Parlour

Queen Vic Market; Pot n Parma’s

Moonlight movies; Cocktail Spiders.

 

This is where my story is set

my first love; i’ll never forget

but, this is where my heart calls home

this place, somewhere over the foam.

 

Authors Note:

I recently discovered these guys on YouTube and as I was walking through the city on my way to work ‘Be Okay’ was blaring through my little white ear plugs and I thought: I love this city but more importantly I love the life I have here… thus my inspiration for Day 3 challenge.

 

 

Posted in #NaPoWriMo2014, Life, Writing

#NaPoWriMo Day Two – Inspired by wine

Posted on by Charlie Alford

This day adds another fleck of diamond

into a medley of spices and fruit.

Residing in a faraway island

moving forward on a flavoursome route.

But she holds tight onto her ruby slipper

as their roads meander; find the time

to remember playing by the river;

climbing Surrey’s hills; to hear church bells chime.

It is fair to say we improve with age

Life tastes better now we know our story

Every moment is written on our page:

our highs; our lows; our losses and glory.

Like the fine wine, that is close to our heart

We’ve got getting older down to an art.