Almost Twenty Little Poetry Projects

Today was one of those days… for everyone else. It started with a Melbourne Metro Meltdown – it involved rats and fire! (I dare you not to click the link now! But come back,if you do).  I wasn’t affected until I was asked to channel my inner minion and do the morning coffee run. As I was standing in the painfully long queue of damp Melbournians I avoided all eye contact and browsed the internet on my phone, as you do, and other than reading all the lovely likes and comments on my WordPress reader (go team!) I stumbled on NaPoWriMo website. I don’t know it happened it just did. Anyway I saw the Day 29 prompt – “Twenty Little Poetry Projects” and thus started a tennis game in my head. Well, not tennis, but one half of the brain was “you’ve posted your Day 30 give yourself a break” and the other half was “pfft, challenge accepted”. Well, work was quiet today and I’m posting here so I assumed you’ve all concluded which side of the brain won. So with out further ado, and apologies for the long winded introduction I give you my-almost-twenty-poetry-projects-poem.

So, Wednesday happened.

Waltzing through the epic commuter show

avoiding a woeful Richmond station.

She wrapped her hand around a ‘cuppa joe’

which stimulated this pointless narration.

She sat at her desk by a stormy scene

and waited for her universe to light up

Orange windows flash-dancing on her screen

reflection of words in her java cup.

“Good Morning Miss Charlie – Are you here yet?

Can you help me a with little something?

Trainaggedon – No, it’s not a threat

I’m late; Need mojo; but calls are waiting!”

Ah, the sweet aroma of cocoa beans

hot lattes of satisfaction

just a hasty injection of caffiene

then he can give you your explanation.

Evil calendars begin at nine

her face turns red at the sound of ‘tick tock’

Sure, Alfie will be back at her desk on time

twiddling her fingers; waiting for the clock.

C’est la vie.

 

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#NaPoWriMo Day Thirty – “April’s Journey”

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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 TwentyNine – ” I’m Still Cooking”

Amy: Who are you?

The Doctor: I don’t know yet. I’m still cooking.

Grease a standard humanoid

lightly brush with Sigmund Freud.

Blanch in Gallifree spirit

that’s laced in some English wit

then add a pinch of Ms Tate

and a dose of Cribbins, wait.

Now, whip up a retriever

a pug and a terrier

Spin around in a blue bowl

until he is a know-it-all

sprinkle with some history

and just a little mystery.

Bake until he is wordy

then decorate with quirky.

#NaPoWriMo Day TwentyEight – “Falling”

Swooping off the cliff like a hungry bird
she follows her path to a places unknown
hunting for actuality – she is falling.
Expressing herself in drawings and words
creating a world inside her mind, her own
rain racing to the ground, she is falling.
Someday soon she will find a little nook
and paint her world in verses and hues;
tales of moments and places she has flown
through her life; a journey is all it took.
Falling.

Prompt: http://www.napowrimo.net/2014/04/day-26-2/

Picture Credits: http://www.falconrygallery.com/displayimage-18.html

#NaPoWriMo Day TwentySeven – “An Existential Crisis”

existential crisis

Writing from an unmade bed

weary of the same four walls

wrapped in the same old pictures.

Why am I here?

Wandering up life’s mountain

weathered and crackling under

weak social preconceptions

What am I?

Worn out from institutions

wailing and waffling on;

wars on individuality.

Who am I?

Weakened from society’s chains

who would keep me on the beaten path

waiting for the answer

what will I be when I grow up?

We’re all in the same boat, they say.

Wrong, we’re split into factions

west and east; north and south

white and black – someone ask why?

Why are we here? What’s the point?

What is our objective?

We’re born into this giant globe

We should be the one’s to protect it…

Prompt: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/poetry/ – Tautogram

#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 TwentyFive – “Dear Sir…”

Todays prompt was inspired by my other interest in researching my family history. The journey took me and my dad to the New Forest where we found the church my great great great grandparents were married (and presumably) buried in. I remember sitting in the churchyard thinking about what I would say to them if I could…

 

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Dear Sir

Looking out from St Andrews

last May – it was a lovely day

the sky brushed in shades of blue

we’d been wandering the forest

studying Landford – tracing

you – on an ancestral quest.

We found you on this country hill

reaching up into the heavens

coated in yellow daffodils.

The world you knew is history

the young’uns migrated to the Smoke

why it’s all a mystery…

But, here stands the same ol’ church

of course in your time it was new

much like that weary silver birch.

Are you in the breeze about these stones?

Listening to my quiet whispers

as I ponder this place – your home.

Do you know we are related?

I’m your grand daughter’s grand daughter

and wanted to say hello – albeit belated.