Bourne Road

Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 11:

 

 

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.
 

Almost Twenty Little Poetry Projects

Today was one of those days… for everyone else. It started with a Melbourne Metro Meltdown – it involved rats and fire! (I dare you not to click the link now! But come back,if you do).  I wasn’t affected until I was asked to channel my inner minion and do the morning coffee run. As I was standing in the painfully long queue of damp Melbournians I avoided all eye contact and browsed the internet on my phone, as you do, and other than reading all the lovely likes and comments on my WordPress reader (go team!) I stumbled on NaPoWriMo website. I don’t know it happened it just did. Anyway I saw the Day 29 prompt – “Twenty Little Poetry Projects” and thus started a tennis game in my head. Well, not tennis, but one half of the brain was “you’ve posted your Day 30 give yourself a break” and the other half was “pfft, challenge accepted”. Well, work was quiet today and I’m posting here so I assumed you’ve all concluded which side of the brain won. So with out further ado, and apologies for the long winded introduction I give you my-almost-twenty-poetry-projects-poem.

So, Wednesday happened.

Waltzing through the epic commuter show

avoiding a woeful Richmond station.

She wrapped her hand around a ‘cuppa joe’

which stimulated this pointless narration.

She sat at her desk by a stormy scene

and waited for her universe to light up

Orange windows flash-dancing on her screen

reflection of words in her java cup.

“Good Morning Miss Charlie – Are you here yet?

Can you help me a with little something?

Trainaggedon – No, it’s not a threat

I’m late; Need mojo; but calls are waiting!”

Ah, the sweet aroma of cocoa beans

hot lattes of satisfaction

just a hasty injection of caffiene

then he can give you your explanation.

Evil calendars begin at nine

her face turns red at the sound of ‘tick tock’

Sure, Alfie will be back at her desk on time

twiddling her fingers; waiting for the clock.

C’est la vie.

 

#NaPoWriMo Day Thirty – “April’s Journey”

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She noticed the line between B and D

on the worn out stone in that photograph

and thought, what could that line possibly mean?

When she leaves here, she’ll paint an autograph

of all her thoughts, moments and poetry

signed, sealed, delivered with a smile and laugh.

Walking through time, her quest to history

where she wrote letters on a Wiltshire hill

pondering the worlds greatest mysteries.

Lie with her in fields of daffodils

as she gazes into Albion’s windows

from the grassy bench of Salisbury’s windmills.

Or find her dancing sunshine and rainbows

as she encounters New York Down Under

April Twenty Fourteen was quite a show

just like lightening in a storm of thunder.

Her line tastes like chai latte on Mondays

a blissful moment her heart could plunder

From point B, the line is a disarray

of wibbly-wobbly moments

just waiting to be played.

 

Prompt: All the 29 poems I’ve written this NaPoWriMo 2014.

#NaPoWriMo – Day TwentyNine – ” I’m Still Cooking”

Amy: Who are you?

The Doctor: I don’t know yet. I’m still cooking.

Grease a standard humanoid

lightly brush with Sigmund Freud.

Blanch in Gallifree spirit

that’s laced in some English wit

then add a pinch of Ms Tate

and a dose of Cribbins, wait.

Now, whip up a retriever

a pug and a terrier

Spin around in a blue bowl

until he is a know-it-all

sprinkle with some history

and just a little mystery.

Bake until he is wordy

then decorate with quirky.

#NaPoWriMo Day Eighteen – “Note to Self”

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I want to tell you to be brave

to step away from that brick wall

and seek the friendship that you crave

by showing the world you stand tall.

Forget the ones that say you’re weird

and ignore you till your wanted.

Find your passion; conquer your fears;

do what you do best and flaunt it!

Singing loud in the dead of night

but silent as a lamb in day?

No, you need to break out like a kite

and speak out, what you want to say!

Look around you, little missy,

you are a person – just like them;

clever, smart and sometimes witty

but you are – just another them.

Shakespeare says the world is a stage

and each of you have your role and place.

You start your lives with a blank page

each of your moments fill that space.

Live individuality –

it’s like travelling the unknown!

You’re a part of humanity

Oh, if you could see how you’ve grown!

You live on the other side now

still thinking the thoughts you’re thinking…

how you got here? you don’t know how

its just part of the travelling.

Be who you want to be, stay true

as one day, she will be you.

#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.