NaPoWriMo 15/30 The drunk poet

Like a door,

battered faded wood

you’re distraught with each other

Oh, drink!

Kindly withdraw!

A sign swings in me

Ma, always said;

“I defy your sighin’ and blubberin’

Can ya go in a sec

Since ya gone so far.

Why? Your coffin heavy”

Each friendly lions paws will close.

Table your pen, many

kids in the school hall

back down,

only you

have sworn faith.

Journey Limerick

FullSizeRender (2)

these small playful characters
are veteran travellers
sounds in every shape
linguistic landscapes
my alphabetic actors

making paper every day
some will go and some will stay
delivered by Sir Snail
a mountain of mail
home after their holiday

they flew by air; sailed by boat
carried by a mountain goat
thrown from bag to bag
“snail mail is a drag”
said the effable e-note’

those small playful characters
conquer cyber barriers
uniting in words
tweeting like the birds
my alphabetic actors.

Written for Writing 201: Poetry. Day 2 – Journey, Limerick, Alliteration.

Inspired by: It was my turn to log the returned mail in the office today. I started to wonder the journey the envelopes had been on… and that’s how interesting logging returned mail is.

Hope you enjoy xxx

words

venomous words are hard to clean
darkness taints a perfect blue sky
the photograph smudged and ruined
as the strong stench of yesterday
pulls on the chains of resentment
as her world crashes with a thud
her soul melts in the acid rain.
she made daisy chains in the park
on a pleasant suburban day
dreaming of all her tomorrows
while tomorrow lingers in the dark
wondering, how did she get here?
Hi de ho! Old friend, old neighbour
the dividing fence was her home
the promise of stability
with endless woods for her to roam
but the trap of good impressions
lit the snowball of red anger
corrupting her soul, she wants out
she wants sunshine in her picture
she wants the suburban postcard
the venomous words cannot beat her
the venomous words will not defeat her
she will scribble her daisy chains
on her suburban photograph

Inspired by the nursery rhyme ‘sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me’

What will your legacy be?

What will your legacy be?
Someone fetch me a cup of tea
Vacant eyes in a photograph
a smile with potential to laugh
the voice quiet and unheard
the writer speaks not a word
hidden behind hazel eyes
an ocean of silent cries
make your mark on the page
own your part on the stage
you’re the lead in your story
reach for your inner glory
stretch it to the sky like a tree
what will your legacy be?

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

A road to love – Beatles-esque

Get Back

Paperback Writer

Yesterday

She loves you

 

All you need is love

Something

A hard day’s night

Can’t buy me love

 

Eight Days a week

I want to hold your hand

We can work it out

Let it be

 

Lady Madonna

Love me do

Ticket to Ride

From me to you

 

Long and Winding Road

Come Together

Penny Lane

I feel fine

 

 

*Inspired by a challenge I saw elsewhere on wordpress