Tag: national poetry month

Posted in Glo/NaPoWriMo2020, Writing

On Writing Poetry

Posted on by Charlie Alford

On Writing Poetry

Da-duh. Da-duh. Dah-duh, My finger taps.
A Word Art race. Scurry across my eyes
Like math, dancing into a rhythmic sequence
They say mean it, do you know what I mean?
My heart’s static. A buoy in the ocean
Floating, drifting – a gypsy vagabond
Words tornado our binding emotion
Beckoning your aching heart to respond.
Someone said your soul should orate your truth
Let your heart hug people – join the chorus
Animate the philosophy of youth
But please please, do your best not to bore us.
Our brain is the marionettist of life
And our fingers bear the unwanting strife.

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Posted in #NaPoWriMo2017, Writing

NaPoWriMo 2017 8/30 – Tea Cup

Posted on by Charlie Alford

There’s a teacup under my bed.

I bought it on a damp high street,
when the days smiled
and our light repelled
oncoming clouds.

You said I was weird.

So when summer ribbons
were moth-eaten
and flowers faded away,
that little teacup stayed.

It watched from the basket,
when lovely red sandles
were discarded,
onto your thick head.

And the purple pen you gave me,
the ink had run
dead.

I love that little teacup,
that sleeps under my bed.

Posted in #NaPoWriMo2017, Writing

NaPoWriMo 2017 4/30 Elegy

Posted on by Charlie Alford

Branded in my memory – those headlines.
“Everybody’s going to war”, she said
in big bold irrefutable lines 
caterwauling across the world: “you’re dead”.
I remember summer, so exciting
hanging together in our township, there
used to be laughter at sudden lightening
we were innocence at the village faire.
But despite the darkness that lingers here
you’re flickering in the deepest shadow
and where there is light, there is hope my dear
inspiring a better tomorrow.

Posted in #NaPoWriMo2017, Writing

NaPoWriMo 2017 3/30

Posted on by Charlie Alford

Here enters this world, a parable;

a soul whisked from Anglo and Asian

beaten to the creamiest caramel

cast into a classic Australian.

 

Creator mixed me with wit and wonder,

folded in compassion and empathy,

she filled my guts with bolts of thunder

and hammered in the nails of humanity.

 

She cooked me until I was honey golden

measuring each and every state of play.

She watched me carefully, my path chosen

She knew I would be delicious some day.

Posted in #NaPoWriMo2017, Writing

NaPoWriMo 2017 2/30 

Posted on by Charlie Alford

A little girl waits in an oak tree

like a pearl from the deepest sea.

She hears her call,

a bold buzzing,

drumming thoughts

a white noise humming.

The little deer through the years

riding through her fiery fears

she fought and sought

with all her might

dodging judgy worldly lights.

Battles won – she can count a few,

the mountain peak, it’s not far from view.

Yesterday’s fountain has run dry

the truth, bellows a Banshee cry

they cannot run. they cannot hide,

for all unjust will certainly die.

The little girl laughs from her tree,

the ones before whisper in the breeze.

Posted in NaPoWriMo 2016, Writing

NaPoWriMo – 27/30

Posted on by Charlie Alford

Have you ever just stopped and noticed that buzzing,

the constant bzzzz and eternal humming?

A network of insomniacs, the lights are always on

from New York to London, and even Taiwan.

I dream of that moment, the holy grail of silence

in the deepest darkest spot of the worlds remotest island

a place where the trees won’t rustle and the winds won’t whistle

where there is absolutely nothing, not even a thistle.

But I know in my heart it will never come true

because no matter where I go, no matter what I do

I will never find a moment of complete and utter peace

when my heart beats so fast, I can hear myself breathe

Even my exhales are noisy, as they pass on out

and the voice in my head just wants to shout

I can feel the thump of my temples against my hand

and the thud of my head when it decides to land.

Have you ever just stopped and noticed that buzzing,

the constant bzzzz and eternal humming?

There is no such thing as silence, not even peace

Just me and you, and you and me.

Posted in NaPoWriMo 2016, Writing

NaPoWriMo – 25/30

Posted on by Charlie Alford

The Huntsman’s name is Death,

his horses’ name is Time

they’re out to catch my breath

at the end of my line.

They wait in the shadows

they watch me at prayer

they blanket me in woe

they simply linger there.

Death and Time are good friends

they are the foes of man

every life they attend

every life they brand.

 

Inspired by Arthur Conan Doyle’s ‘The Huntsman’

Posted in NaPoWriMo 2016, Writing

NaPoWriMo – 23/30

Posted on by Charlie Alford

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.