Human tetris… activate!
Do you hear the people sing?
Swinging like monkeys
in a boxed rainforest
the jungle calls loudly
ghostly footprints
taste like rain.
Twisting, turning, jerking
weaving the web of suburbia
even though you don’t know
you know
no worries, mate
the commuters trolley of blind faith
fly down highways
while I am suspended like a marionette
dreaming of growing wings
the charismatic eagle Always
one day will cut loose the strings
Do you hear the people sing?
I’ve recently returned from my trip to Beijing and so enjoyed learning the history and culture of our Chinese friends. The following is a few words I composed whilst almost passed out in one of the gantrys of the Great Wall of China as I tried to escape the sweltering sun and rest my poor weary feet…
A reel of memories
that taste like duck and dumplings
a warriors cry silenced
carved into the mountains
a story of everlasting pavement
up and down, up and down,
exposed under Asian sun
straw hats among the sloping grass
following footsteps
immune to creaking chairlifts
and anglo invasion.
Written in honour of Robin Williams – a true entertainer that had a huge impact on this girls childhood. I can’t think of a favourite childhood movie that didn’t have him in it. From Aladdin, Flubber, Hook to Dead Poets Society, Good Will Hunting and even more recently Happy Feet.
The day the laughter died…
shock waves and sadness
a piece of my youth – gone
I always thought Peter Pan lived forever.
Sparkling blue eyes
decades of smiles
like ripples across an ocean
throngs of characters
transcending time
always and forever
caught inside life’s hour glass
trying to break free
a special kind of magic
never before and never again
will our hearts warm
like you warmed them
our genie
our doctor
our captain
remember
turn at the second star
nanu nanu.
Written for Heeding Haiku With HA: Summer Kigo by MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie… Summer is indeed burning brightly over the northern hemisphere and I am so much looking forward to joining them next month for a couple of weeks. However, south of the equator, at the bottom of the world Winter is making herself very well known. So here is my tanka from:
The OtherSide
On the other side
billowing clouds block the sun
wind chimes dance fiercely
shaded from Summers beauty
we’ll find our way back again.
This fog is symbolic of discontent
Hurt and pain burns inside this weary world
each of us clouded by our judgements
it happened in a moment; emotions twirled.
Walking through shadows of a misty place
searching; scrolling for pieces of answers
disappearing without a scrap or trace
echoes of voices of social dancers
Soon the fog will lift from this tired city
And her flags will be raised back to full mast
Even in this moment the world seems shitty
tomorrow will pull it into the past.
We’ve been here before; Winter comes and goes
We’ll be here again – that everyone knows.
Inspired by Northwest Frame of Mind 1 Day 1 World Project: 10pm and the well-known game ‘If I go to sleep now… that’s 8 hours sleep’…
“Time is an illusion”
It’s 10pm on a Monday
eyes closing; must be time to sleep
dreams of finding time – someday
there will be logic in our weeks.
Weighed and measured all my lifetime
into hours, days, months and years
conditioned by the hands that chime
transient moments – deepest fears.
It’s time to set the alarm clock
It’s time to turn down the warm bed
It’s time to pull on the wooly socks
It’s time to farewell today – she’s dead.
Time is humanity’s greatest curse
inured to the great grand design
trapped inside from birth to hearse
will we ever find the time?
It’s 10pm on a Monday
and it’s almost time for bed
tomorrow will be another day
tick tock goes the clock, she said.
Someone said to me today – write a poem with every letter of the alphabet in 5 minutes. This is what I came up with…
Abiding balderdash
comes dizzy existence
folly grows here
inside – jigsaws
knotting language
mine, not ours
pondering questions
reality steals time
unscrambling voices
x-ray your zombie.
Great Winter hath followed this heavy heart
foundeth myself upon a rustic inn
I beseech’d the Sirrah to play their part
pity fell upon mine self and cousin
Pray thou bestow us with hot steamy broth
methinks thy counsel is wiser than some
perchance thy maid could bringeth us some cloth
wherefore I wash in thy room, hither come.
Hark! The Queens gold I have a few pieces
opportune trades beckon from town yonder
pray let me returneth thy good kindness
mine fortune, I giveth thee to plunder.
For thy selfless goodwill thy shalt be repaid
anon, thine soul shalt be measured and weighed.
Inspired by Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 60: Sixty
A note to sixty-year-old Charlie
We’ve always had futuristic optimistic dreams
of an iCharlie with silver hair
thoughts of 2045 – what a nightmare
yes, coffee! Plug me in there
Scanning and programming a human consciousness
it’s United States of Earth, right?
Here they’re conversing, rehearsing political folly
with the best interests – of them!
I am writing from English Atlantis
Are we still here at Sixty?
I have the mind of a fox
the meaning of life is in eucalypts
I chomp along the unknown path
clutching to the pillars of history
originally from the east coast
I’m not a bear, you know.
Sharp minds need lots of sleep
the meaning of life is in sleeping
it is the beginning – koalapocalpyse!
the sounds of chainsaws ring
rippling like stones thrown on a lake
the saddest song for lots of species
fill the tall tree’s of character
warning – the humans are coming!
Can we put them on exhibition?
Oh, I dream of eternal eucalypts
cascading over our country
I think I’ll go to sleep now…
Charlie Ann Alford 
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