#NaPoWriMo Day Seven – “Discovering Monday”

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

#NaPoWriMo Day Four: “Time”

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.

#NaPoWriMo Day Two – Inspired by wine

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.

#NaPoWriMo Day One – April Limerick

Here is a challenge to behold

Dancing words, or so I am told

I pledge to you to write

Every day; Every night

Until every word becomes gold.

 

This is the voice of Always Chum

She talks all day; her voice is numb

But when she is home

Her words fill the dome

Bring on PoWriMo and thensome!

Composed upon a White Night

Melbournians circulate savoir-faire

in chambers of light, music and motion;

a coagulation of devotion;

virtuosity the hub of this square.

Pumping throughout the veins of the city

a plethora of colour; projecting

a collective nucleus connecting

in an atrium of urbanity.

The ground beneath me sending pulsations

a transient nuit blanche chasing the dawn

a sense of belonging; quite a sensation

when you are gone; I, we, will be forlorn.

For you are the heart, the soul, of us all

you see us; you hear us; we can stand tall

 

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