This fog is symbolic of discontent
Hurt and pain burns inside this weary world
each of us clouded by our judgements
it happened in a moment; emotions twirled.
Walking through shadows of a misty place
searching; scrolling for pieces of answers
disappearing without a scrap or trace
echoes of voices of social dancers
Soon the fog will lift from this tired city
And her flags will be raised back to full mast
Even in this moment the world seems shitty
tomorrow will pull it into the past.
We’ve been here before; Winter comes and goes
We’ll be here again – that everyone knows.
Poetry
1 Day 1 World Project: 10pm
Inspired by Northwest Frame of Mind 1 Day 1 World Project: 10pm and the well-known game ‘If I go to sleep now… that’s 8 hours sleep’…
“Time is an illusion”
It’s 10pm on a Monday
eyes closing; must be time to sleep
dreams of finding time – someday
there will be logic in our weeks.
Weighed and measured all my lifetime
into hours, days, months and years
conditioned by the hands that chime
transient moments – deepest fears.
It’s time to set the alarm clock
It’s time to turn down the warm bed
It’s time to pull on the wooly socks
It’s time to farewell today – she’s dead.
Time is humanity’s greatest curse
inured to the great grand design
trapped inside from birth to hearse
will we ever find the time?
It’s 10pm on a Monday
and it’s almost time for bed
tomorrow will be another day
tick tock goes the clock, she said.
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A – Z of my brain in under five minutes
Someone said to me today – write a poem with every letter of the alphabet in 5 minutes. This is what I came up with…
Abiding balderdash
comes dizzy existence
folly grows here
inside – jigsaws
knotting language
mine, not ours
pondering questions
reality steals time
unscrambling voices
x-ray your zombie.
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Tram Ride Cinquain
tram ride
crowded people
breathing the winter air
Squashed and squished like eggs in a jar
daily
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Thoughts of an Elizabethan Traveller
Great Winter hath followed this heavy heart
foundeth myself upon a rustic inn
I beseech’d the Sirrah to play their part
pity fell upon mine self and cousin
Pray thou bestow us with hot steamy broth
methinks thy counsel is wiser than some
perchance thy maid could bringeth us some cloth
wherefore I wash in thy room, hither come.
Hark! The Queens gold I have a few pieces
opportune trades beckon from town yonder
pray let me returneth thy good kindness
mine fortune, I giveth thee to plunder.
For thy selfless goodwill thy shalt be repaid
anon, thine soul shalt be measured and weighed.
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A note for Sixty
Inspired by Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 60: Sixty
A note to sixty-year-old Charlie
We’ve always had futuristic optimistic dreams
of an iCharlie with silver hair
thoughts of 2045 – what a nightmare
yes, coffee! Plug me in there
Scanning and programming a human consciousness
it’s United States of Earth, right?
Here they’re conversing, rehearsing political folly
with the best interests – of them!
I am writing from English Atlantis
Are we still here at Sixty?
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Through the eyes of a koala…
I have the mind of a fox
the meaning of life is in eucalypts
I chomp along the unknown path
clutching to the pillars of history
originally from the east coast
I’m not a bear, you know.
Sharp minds need lots of sleep
the meaning of life is in sleeping
it is the beginning – koalapocalpyse!
the sounds of chainsaws ring
rippling like stones thrown on a lake
the saddest song for lots of species
fill the tall tree’s of character
warning – the humans are coming!
Can we put them on exhibition?
Oh, I dream of eternal eucalypts
cascading over our country
I think I’ll go to sleep now…
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Keep Calm and Carry On
Her lion heart is beating true
inhaling buckets of vindaloo
hearing the drums, seeing bright red
taste of fresh grass – battles ahead
Failure is the tide coming in
sail the ’66 bandwagon
1 of 19, the news said,
the empire is certainly dead.
Her little red mane knows the score
generations have seen it before.
Are they all just cream-crackered?
Lost, alone, completely battered?
No – because the pride roars loudly
dancing Nobby’s dance – hopefully.
We may have misguided hope
pride of St. George others can’t scope
even when their mighty paws
graze the grass like kitty claws
she WILL put the ball in the net
and put on a show you won’t forget!
Once this small cub ran through the town
painted red: oh, what a clown
screaming “Viva L’Angleterre”
the solid cup would soon be theirs.
Sigh, Keep Calm and Carry On
is the soul of this nations song.
Inspiration:
My new ‘Keep Calm & Carry On’ Mug
Englands losses in the first round.
Baddiel & Skinner ‘It’s Coming Home’ – England’s 1996 football anthem.
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Anniversary of Me
Anniversary of Me – A work in progress
16.6.1985 –
The makings of summer began for them
early Fathers Day, 1985
and they said hello to their first daughter.
The sounds waves of ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’
brought goosebumps to his faded green tattoos
as he met her little brown eyes, gazing.
Soft olive clay ready to be moulded
her mentor, a ginger cat named Garfield
she learnt to love pasta and hate Mondays.
The years have passed like the ticks of a clock
nonsensical counting from birth to death
pausing to celebrate, commemorate.
Little pastel soldiers stand in a line
as a wave of fire sets their heads alight
and the incessant chanting begins.
Twenty-Nine years – she has seen fire and rain
climbed high mountains and sailed along rivers
travelling this long colourful rainbow.
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Padlocks
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.
Charlie Ann Alford 
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