NaPoWriMo – 23/30

I wonder, how was this morning for you?

Can you remember the sights and the sounds?

It is in the moments we see the truth

a thought, while I stand upon frozen ground.

 

At 8, I watched the steam rise from my tea

At 9, I felt the breathe of Sunday morn

I walked, watching Winter begin its weave

the flowers stripped bare, revealing their thorns.

 

But, the flicker of hope remains in the sky

as the summer yellow turns to bright white

there is still beauty in things as they die

and nothing more beautiful then this sight.

 

So, the next time you step into Sunday

be grateful for the moment that makes May.

NaPoWriMo – 8/30

It's raining orange and yellows
the wind whistles in the air
and as I wonder about tomorrow
there's a hibiscus hiding there
her colourful little petals
shivers under the wooden chair
waiting for the wind to settle
but Autumn is in the air.

Unplugged

My iPad is a portal to reality

connecting, exploring, talking

I am the writer of this world

Lost in – Who? What? Where?

 I just had to unplug.

Food processors are evil

itchy little finger – torture

stands to attention in plaster

my delicious cupcakes altered

I can taste the tears on my face

my nerves screaming

the smell of failure lingering.

Later, Winter – she plucked me

from a rather fake Autumn

evolution of Australian weather

“Sautumn” turned to “Wautumn”

just like the flip of a switch.

I said it would happen.

Unplugged from my reality

Now, Unplugged from humanity

exiled to the same four walls

sniffling, coughing, mostly sleeping

reading Allegiant.

As the great machine of Melbourne

operates without me.

Soon – I will be back within my faction

fuelled by coffee and bagels

iPad is plugged in and ready to go

another week begins – tomorrow.

Due to little-finger-related technical difficulties I’ve found writing (even typing!) difficult so I took the opportunity to step away from my daily writings/musings to reconnect with the real world around me. Mother Nature, had different plans I was struck with a cold and ordered to rest. So I’ve been sleeping, reading, and resting for days now with a barely a word spoken to another human being. I wonder if the world has changed while I’ve been away… 😉

St. Kilda Pier

IMG_7177

Pausing above the breakwater

on the edge of St. Kilda Pier

capture a father and daughter

tangled in photography gear.

Her pink scarf dances in the breeze

as her world falls behind the trees.

In the shadows with bells and chimes

she stops being guarded by time.

Enchanted by the soft whistles

emerging from the creaking boats.

Posts, etched in sailors initials

tells the stories of life afloat.

Raptures of little blue penguins

Modeling for their human friends

nestle themselves in the deep rocks

quiet and safe along the docks.

#NaPoWriMo Day Thirty – “April’s Journey”

headstone-md1

She noticed the line between B and D

on the worn out stone in that photograph

and thought, what could that line possibly mean?

When she leaves here, she’ll paint an autograph

of all her thoughts, moments and poetry

signed, sealed, delivered with a smile and laugh.

Walking through time, her quest to history

where she wrote letters on a Wiltshire hill

pondering the worlds greatest mysteries.

Lie with her in fields of daffodils

as she gazes into Albion’s windows

from the grassy bench of Salisbury’s windmills.

Or find her dancing sunshine and rainbows

as she encounters New York Down Under

April Twenty Fourteen was quite a show

just like lightening in a storm of thunder.

Her line tastes like chai latte on Mondays

a blissful moment her heart could plunder

From point B, the line is a disarray

of wibbly-wobbly moments

just waiting to be played.

 

Prompt: All the 29 poems I’ve written this NaPoWriMo 2014.

#NaPoWriMo Day TwentySix – SummerTime

Although, technically it’s Autumn here Summer did revisit us for ANZAC Day. I wrote this whilst sitting along the banks of the Yarra River. Louis Armstrong & Ella Fitzgerald do a great cover of this song – SummerTime.

 

 

“Summer time… and the livin’ is easy… fish are jumpin’… and the cotton is high…”

 

the saxophonists notes follow her along the river

as she looks down on the black swans floating

from the steps of a faux Parisian cafe

on a beautiful faux summer day.

 

“… Oh, your daddy’s rich… and your mamma’s good lookin’… so hush, little baby… don’t you cry…”

 

a little girl reaches and clasps her grandfather’s hand

his medals glistening in the sun; a weary veteran

nods slowly and carefully to the whispers in his ears

comfortably surrounded by his future.

 

“… One of these mornings… you’re going to rise up singing… then you’ll spread your wings… and take to the sky…”

 

the banks of the river burst with soul

a young student girl charms us with an upturned wok

a young veteran strums his aged guitar

while a young  flautist hums her way into the urban orchestra.

 

“… But until that morning… there’s nothing can harm you… with your daddy and mummy standing by…”

 

on the grass a group of primary children

create chalk drawings of sunshine

and city views – they love their country

sparkling pride in their young little eyes.

 

“… Summertime… and the livin’ is easy…”

 

 

#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.