#NaPoWriMo Day Nineteen – “a weeping angels woe”

 

Alone in the churchyard I watch

mortals mourning in tears and flowers.

Leaning against a rowan tree

abandoned by my family.

Beneath my feet a girl is weeping

I open my arms and kneel down

In surprise, she looks up at me

screaming like a startled crow.

She runs back through the stone and grass

reaching out to her, I follow

She turns to me – her eyes are cold

and zap – she’s now in the past.

Falling through time – I am weeping;

my eyes hidden behind grey fingers.

Left within eternal sleeping

this is where my Winter lingers.

#NaPoWriMo Day Seventeen – “Castles”

 

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Through the window is a narration

of the past and present mixing

my heart of inspiration. 

 

I love the richness of these places

a group of united kingdoms;

strong pride in her peoples faces.

 

Albion has a long story

of Kings, with their conflict and feuds.

Just pages in her history.

 

The ruins of yesterday stand

tall and proud above the Wye

separating two ancient lands.

 

A little intimidating! 

But at the same time, brilliant!

To see her strong and surviving.

 

A castle weathered throughout time

for centuries now her church bells chime.

 

#NaPoWriMo Day Sixteen – “Questions”

Took the Day 14th prompt from http://www.napowrimo.net/  “Questions” ..

 

Dear Mr Moon,

Did you know you’re seen from this building?

Did you know your presence is daunting?

Did you know it feels like you’re haunting?

Why come out in the darkest setting?

Why insist on constant hovering?

Why do you insist on staring?

What could have you been doing?

What evil plans has been brewing?

What are you not saying?

Who is that man you’ve been hiding?

Who have you been confiding?

Who has helped you with the scheming?

When will you stop misleading?

When will you stop dreaming?

When will you stop lying?

Why is you face reddening?

Are you offended by my questioning?

Are you ready for my sentencing?

 

#NaPoWriMo Day Fifteen – “Halfway”

Look at that, we made it 15 days into a 30 day challenge. In the spirit of the awesomeness that is halfway I actually wrote two poems. The first an adaptation of the ‘nonet’ structure and the other an ‘acrostic’.

Poem One 

Climbing the steps of April’s staircase

decorated in rhyme and meter

an assembly of poems

sing a poets story

of being human

and living here

in this world

today

so

halfway

through April

which is today

she wanted to say

thank you for liking,

sharing and commenting here

and elsewhere on the interwebs.

I’ll try to stop writing about food.

***

Poem Two

Now, is the halfway mark.

A challenge; we did embark!

Poets from every time and place

Open their books and pencil case

With a writers eyes and heart

Rendered verses light and dark

Inspiration in their minds eye

Meter and rhyme play in the sky.

Our muse will find our spark.

***

#NaPoWriMo Day Fourteen – “Song of Sorrow”

Whilst upon my weekend web travels I came across this artist: Victoria Frances – and was so taken with this piece I couldn’t help but write about it. If you want to see more of Victoria’s work please see here: http://www.victoriafrances.es/en/ 

Painted smiles and comical tears

lie beneath a gold plated mask

so many faces; so many years

Who I am? It’s only natural to ask.

I am the forgotten extra

a dark, morose, Venetian clown

just waiting for my exit, so

Death can rescue me from this crown.

For my master sits on the bloody throne

a cheater of time and of death.

I am a mere mortal instrument

to entertain until my last breath.

He found me by the Grand Canal

a weary flower weeping

took me for his possession

another toy for his keeping.

Winter breathes inside these walls

compelled to the dreary and dark

bound by magic into the night

cursed by an invisible mark.

At sunset, the music will start

and echo through the dusky halls

I am captive in his shadows

imprisoned inside the dark stone walls.

#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.

#NaPoWriMo Day Twelve – “Rain”

Careful steps where the puddles meet

a little lady wages war

Smiles of empathy cross the street

Her umbrella falls to the floor

It’s all about the shades of grey;

paint an urban watercolour.

it’s just four seasons in one day

a game we play in Melbournia. 

#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.

#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.