And I wrote you a playlist of
Bob Ross’ voice, more serene than
Coastal lakes lining mountains.
Did I get the right vibe?
Even if we are not leaving
For the next year or so
Google drive through the same day
How down the hill did we fall?
Is it this time of Autumn?
Just an in between of seasons.
Know how to get the old boys back
Like those immortal 90s shows.
My phone died like a car crash
Not sure what happened but it
Ordered a few more days to
Park in the present, oi vey.
Question? We have to go ahead
Rest and breathe for tomorrow
See I will miss the next dream
That you planned without me.
Until it’s like a normal
Video of you and me
What do you want to do?
X-ray the situation?
Yeah I’m not sure about road trips.
Zaddy, I’m writing to you.
Tag: poet
NaPoWriMo – Day 14 – Parody
Let me count the ways I’m not into you
You have enough red flags to line a street
But my heart does not care what maybe true
she fantasies about the day we’ll meet.
Why do you have to be agreeable?
You’re like a puppy waiting to be fed
love and worth. It is unbelievable
that I cannot get you out of my head.
But, in the moment my phone starts chirping
lightening sparks my fingertips and I type
my heart hangs from words that keep it racing
while my brain doesn’t understand the hype.
In the moment, my heart is into you
But in the morning, I’m over it. True.
Inspired by Shakespeare’s Sonnet 141 and one of my fav rom-coms 10 Things I Hate About You.
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NaPoWriMo – Day 12 – Poem
Where the voice in my head connects to pen
Onions of feelings turn into scribble
Reaching to pieces I need to question
Deconstructing a veteran riddle.
Pour me a glass of the finest whiskey.
Oblige me to a bottle of cheese and wine.
Endeavour to bring mental liberty.
Mend the broken quatrains that jail my mind.
But, a poem is more than verse or song
Like the tide it changes with differing eyes
Understand it’s not something to get wrong
Each one has a way of seeing the sky.
Be the message you want to tell the earth
Excite, amaze, and know your worth.
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NaPoWriMo – Day 10 – Sea Shanty
Steer the oak helm north of the fold
the stag, the sea whip, the fire bird
they are the answer, so we’re told
Alina is our truth, our word.
Za svobodo, za svobodo.
We dream of an ordinary life
where all our kind are accepted
We dream of a world without strife
where no one has to bleed it.
Za svobodo, za svobodo.
The dark one stands on the hill
but the light continues on
unchartered waters fits the bill
for a new and peaceful kingdom.
Za svobodo, za svobodo.
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NaPoWriMo – Day 9 – Sonnet
The love I want lives inside the TV
a dark haired prince whose dark eyes catch my heart
intertwine a transparent energy
a magic beginning about to start.
He attends to my story likes it’s truth.
His hand catches mine when I don’t feel strong.
He stands beside me holding up our roof.
Our minds and body in sync all day long.
But, when summer has had her last sunset
and Autumn beckons the eternal dark;
Lobster love, can we breathe enough of it?
Has the mighty great Eros left his mark?
The love I want is sleeping next to me;
My best friend, my confidante, my story.
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NaPoWriMo – Day 3 – Opposite Poem
Red Chicks & Cheese
I like them in a basket
I like them with a witch
I like them in a flat
I like them with a cat
I like them here or there
I like them anywhere
I like red chicks and cheese
and I’m the only person, I like to please.
Inspo: Green Eggs & Ham
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NaPoWriMo – Day 2 – Surreal
Grey haunting fog.
Stepping forward, from
shadow selves.
A flute echoes across the sky
stirring the dark and twisted
sounds of thunderous clouds
echoes the rushing rivers
meandering down the hill.
Angels favour the brave.
The oaks stand tall in the woods
battered and bruised
at the mercy of Zeus.
I am a wedge of cranberry cheese.
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NaPoWriMo 2023 – Day 1 – The Art of Book Covers
Started at: https://www.napowrimo.net/
I am the 18th edition
of an annual incarnation
I offer no explanation
for this pathetic introduction.
My stems are weathered by… life.
My leaves are folded in secret.
I could write down all my desires
but the darkness won’t let me keep it.
A daisy taught me to market
the stigma running through my core
and make myself the target
in everything I live for.
But the words fall flat on the page
and I sit alone on the stage
squared in a transparent cage
smelling of lavender and sage.
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Sunset Storm
Sunsets reflect
the passage of the day
squeaks of light
strikes of gold
rolls of grey
blurred puffs of energy
cry – intensity
In a moment
the sky breaks
the trees fold
the house shakes
the girl’s cold
Set into darkness
Blown into nothing
all that’s left
pitta patta
of something
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That old man
Alone upon the mountainside
Our hero hid and cowered
Born of Dickensian yuletide
He persona was rather dour.
His sandy hair was stiff as straw
His hat feeble and frail
His feet cemented to the floor
cold on his mountainside jail.
Glaring down into the valley
He chided his creators
Captivated infinitely
Upon a sea of haters.
Alone upon the mountainside
Our hero watched and wondered
Weathered, beaten, and cockeyed
What life had he plundered?
Charlie Ann Alford 
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