Posted in #NaPoWriMo2014, Life

#NaPoWriMo Day Thirteen – “When we were girls”

When we were girls
 
We wore stick-on earrings and yin-yang chains;
butterfly clips and colourful scrunchies.
We would cycle around the village lanes
finding our way home for afternoon teas.
 
When we were girls
 
we added each other to our bright fun fax
you were the first person I sent a postcard too.
We hung out; found places to relax
We had the same favourite colour: blue.
 
When we were girls
 
We would meet, Saturday morning, at the shop
and buy strawberry slushies and candy bars
later we’d walk through your garden of hop;
then your dad would drive us around in his car.
 
When we were girls
 
we would play on the banks of the River Bourne
making mighty forts out of sticks and mud
a waging war: dolly was forlorn
but the trolls protected her – like they should.
 
When we were girls
 
we’d watch our brothers act like jokers
as we swung our knees high into the sky
they’d ambush us with their super soakers
so we’d have to wait in the sun to dry.
 
When we were girls
 
we printed our photo’s at the shopping centre,
the only instagram was a polaroid;
we would use our diaries to record our adventures
and have to wait, to tell each other stories we enjoyed.
 
When we were girls
 
When we were girls –  life was outside the window
it was made of exploration and discovery.
When we were girls – we valued the tenacity
of moments; of pictures; and of stories.
 
When we were girls…
… wasn’t that long ago.
Posted in #NaPoWriMo2014, Life, Love

#NaPoWriMo Day Eleven – “Unrealistic Expectations”

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”

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”

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, Family, Life, Time

#NaPoWriMo Day Five “Tin of Air”

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”

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, Life, Writing

#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.

Posted in Life

Mouse

Here I am. Can you see me waiting here?

My eyes wander across your way, I see

You all sitting together happily

But you can’t see me, and that is my fear.

I walk with you along the corridor

And every morning squeak you a greeting

I’d share more, but I think you’d stop breathing

I’m not a well-loved little character.

One day you all will change, I hope

You will see value in my shy nature

I’m just a timid quiet achiever

Learning to breathe, learning to cope.

So before you cast me off into the wind

Take a step back, and you’ll find a good friend.

 

 

mouse

 

Image acquired via google http://bioweb.uwlax.edu/bio203/s2009/smith_meg2/ – take a click to some interesting insights into our mousy friends.