Human Tetris – The Commuters Curse

Human tetris… activate!

Do you hear the people sing?

Swinging like monkeys

in a boxed rainforest

the jungle calls loudly

ghostly footprints

taste like rain.

Twisting, turning, jerking

weaving the web of suburbia

even though you don’t know

you know

no worries, mate

the commuters trolley of blind faith

fly down highways

while I am suspended like a marionette

dreaming of growing wings

the charismatic eagle Always

one day will cut loose the strings

Do you hear the people sing?

Composed upon Mutianyu

I’ve recently returned from my trip to Beijing and so enjoyed learning the history and culture of our Chinese friends. The following is a few words I composed whilst almost passed out in one of the gantrys of the Great Wall of China as I tried to escape the sweltering sun and rest my poor weary feet…

 

A reel of memories

that taste like duck and dumplings

a warriors cry silenced

carved into the mountains

a story of everlasting pavement

up and down, up and down,

exposed under Asian sun

straw hats among the sloping grass

following footsteps

immune to creaking chairlifts

and anglo invasion.

 

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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.

Thoughts of an Elizabethan Traveller

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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.

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?

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…

Keep Calm and Carry On

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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.

 

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.

When I was a little girl…

When I was a little girl I would wander

through ancient woods and historic villages

admiration, reverence, longing to know

wishing, praying I could travel through time

with a yearning of how we got here.

Now, I flick through records and photographs

curious wonderment in my brown eyes

watching the branches stretch into history

stories of miners and farm labourers.

It really was another world.

If I was born in Victorian England

I might be a maid in the houses of Chelsea

or a farmers daughter without a trade

trying my hardest to simply exist.

Just another face in the crowd.

As the lines falter through time’s trees

mysteries remain; never to be resolved.

Ancestors circling around the globe

India, Australia, Wales and home

bequeathing a nomadic legend.

Inspired by one of my favourite television shows Who Do You Think You Are? and my passion for researching my ancestry.