Inspired by Pooky’s Poetry Prompt: Pyramid
padlocks
solid and firm
linking and connecting
two souls happily on a bridge
together forever
in the city
of love.
Tag: pooky’s poems
The Inbetween.
Every day – opening and closing;
hours spent shutting out this world
caught up in her own in between.
Trapped in repetitive imagery
paralysed by the same expressions
she escapes into Narnia.
Opens her world of black ravens
whistling over an ocean breeze
a melody of her young soul.
Every day – opening and closing
Eyes anchor the in-betweens.
Todays poem inspired by Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 34 – Doors
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Rhyme and Reason: Why give the taxman more money?
Storm clouds gather around this sky scraper
why must every day feel like a battle
all we’re asking – is look at the papers
there is more to it than just tattle.
Have you dreamt of sailing around the world?
Or buying a cottage out on the bay?
Or creating as your golden years twirled?
Living out your life – free- day to day?
Monkey Man would have you chained to your desk
trapped and imprisoned in the daily grind
ol’ weary travellers will have no rest
till they reach fifty years – having served time.
Why give all your money to the taxman?
Wealthy – he’s like the mouse that got the cheese.
Why wait till later? Why not make a plan?
Earn some money now not lose it on fees.
Monkey man is not going to help you
he’ll have you work till your six feet under
So pull it together, let it accrue
it is your future; not that Mans plunder.
***
Prompt: Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 19 – Rhyme and Reason
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Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 16: School Days
Inspired by Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 16:
Bomber jacket over navy blazer
black gothic hair and skeleton satchel
conversations about vampires and ghosts
scrawled across feeble exercise books.
Walking north to a religious prison
resistance was met and judged by Fathers
asking about Church attendance on Sunday
and expectations of Confirmation.
School was like society’s theatre
marionettes performing to loud bells
and playground whistles choreographing
a sea of blue polo tops and black shorts.
I stood in the wings, the old science block
was my home for three years, Guildford Rd site
Copying math homework and writing poems
I still can’t believe I failed English class.
The best days were further down this long road
Sixth Form found a brown-eyed girl called Charlie
where love and friendship began its journey
happy in her individuality.
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Thoughts on Life
Inspired by Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 15 – The Meaning of Life
Sitting on the stone steps of Parliament House
in my warm grey coat and snuggly scarf
clutching to my hot vanilla chai latte
as I watch brown leaves floating in the wind.
What a marvellous moment to be here!
To see, the world tick-tocking like clockwork.
Chatter echoes from the crowded cafes
as the trams jingle their morning songs.
Sometimes I stop – listen – and wonder
it’s a funny thing we do everyday
existing and living; playing the game
Is there meaning? And it’s not forty-two.
It feels like a never-ending story
where we’re born in the middle – missing
pieces of the beginning – a puzzle
that we spend our lives trying to work out.
Some say there are three things; life, death, taxes
but I think it’s human architecture
life for me, is Mufasa and Simba
it’s the story of how we all connect.
In a giant globe of activity
this world is an enigmatic story
that happens to feature humanity
and stepping on a butterfly changes history.
Sitting on the stone steps of Parliament House
in my warm grey coat and snuggly scarf
clutching to my hot vanilla chai latte
as I watch brown leaves floating in the wind.
What a marvellous moment to be here!
To see, the world tick-tocking like clockwork.
Chatter echoes from the crowded cafes
as the trams jingle their morning songs.
Sometimes I stop – listen – and wonder
it’s a funny thing we do everyday
existing and living; playing the game
Is there meaning? And it’s not forty-two.
It feels like a never-ending story
where we’re born in the middle – missing
pieces of the beginning – a puzzle
that we spend our lives trying to work out.
Some say there are three things; life, death, taxes
but I think it’s human architecture
life for me, is Mufasa and Simba
it’s the story of how we all connect.
In a giant globe of activity
this world is an enigmatic story
that happens to feature humanity
and stepping on a butterfly changes history.
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Bourne Road
Back in the days of jeans and bandana’s I would tip toe along the old stone brick walls taking a swing on the old iron gate into the old tennis-racket shaped road. We were the children of the River Bourne playing happily above our ancient wood cycling in circles around our bubble waiting to venture down the unknown path. We created chalk worlds on the grey pavement where our art reflected our village life of summer carnivals and bonfire nights bringing this circle into another vibe. I remember standing outside my home eighteen years of me imprinted in those bricks echoes of laughter bound through the parish as I waltzed into the woods, goodbye. The 90s children have all grown and gone new pedals and canine friends take their place but the brown robins are still all twittering like the old ladies down by station house. The road I grew up on belongs elsewhere in a time of jeans and bad bandana’s when dancing to ‘Under the Sea’ was cool and dinner was hot curry sauce on chips.
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You Gotta Be…
Inspired by Pooky’s Poems where today’s challenge involved writing a poem to the rhythm of a song you enjoy. I chose Des’ree ‘You Gotta Be’ because this song has been stuck in my head since the first day I heard it back in 1994; when I was a nine year old English village girl getting up to mischief in her ‘Little Mermaid’ roller-skates. I kept the chorus because I feel as though it’s always been my life lesson.
This is who you are today
brown eyes on a summer day
stepping our from behind Grandpa’s knee
Your friends, they will grow with you
fly with you to Timbuktu
live, laugh, dance, this planet
young birds flying free.
You gotta be…
You gotta be bad, You gotta be bold, You gotta be wiser
You gotta be hard, You gotta be tough, You gotta be stronger
You gotta be cool, You gotta be calm, You gotta together
All I know, All I know, love with save the day.
Listen to want Des’ree said
seal the words inside your head
cherish every chapter cherish every line
some will teach you how to be
but all you need is family
my oh my, yea, eh eh
You gotta be bad, You gotta be bold, You gotta be wiser
You gotta be hard, You gotta be tough, You gotta be stronger
You gotta be cool, You gotta be calm, You gotta together
All I know, All I know, love with save the day.
I know you’re only nine, but life is beginning
story’s start – moments of time and space
the years keep on turning
they won’t stop; they will find you
one day you will wake up to another face
whoa-oh-oh
You gotta be bad, You gotta be bold, You gotta be wiser
You gotta be hard, You gotta be tough, You gotta be stronger
You gotta be cool, You gotta be calm, You gotta together
All I know, All I know, love with save the day.
Listen to want Des’ree said
seal the words inside your head
cherish every chapter cherish every line
some will teach you how to be
but all you need is family
my oh my, yea, eh eh
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Confusing Figure of Speech, Fair Dinkum!
Twas Winter in Melbournia
students rugged up in coats and scarves
sipping on lattes and mochas
sitting where the benches were carved.
Huddled in a tiny horse-shoe
telling tales of the lost weekend
I listened carefully; laughed on cue
an outcast amongst Aussie friends.
A tale of breakdowns on bridges
and how we’d walked 5k’s to town
along the highway, fighting the midges
drowning as the rain raced down.
“Wow, Fair Dinkum, girls!”, Al exclaimed.
I just smiled; and nodded; coughed “Yeah…”
Being new to this Aussie game
Oh, how I felt like a silly mare!
I looked at Al all befuddled
and he told me the whole story.
What he’d heard had him bubbled
and he wanted truth in our glory.
Fair Dinkum.
Inspired by Pooky’s Poems: Confusing Figure of Speech
Charlie Ann Alford 
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