Showing posts from June, 2015

June poetry days - 15, 16, 17.

Your colour palette glues me to you
Experiment with me and find my truth
My meaning is yours so tangle me
In your hands and catch my glitter

Politicise these curves
Drag me screaming
Your cause is not mine 
Go create your storm
That teacup is calling you

June days 12, 13 and 14!

Boxes Knife Ineptitude

Ineptitude hides me, boxing me in
Hauls me by my scruff and shakes hard
Stifles my breath and grinds my teeth
Plucks at my skin and leaves a burn
Ruins my hair and makes my face a joke
But the knife slices me free and the box lies empty.

June poetry days 10, 11 and 12.

Joy Forest Boxes
The box lies on the mat, fat and waiting
It sits, ambivalent and pleased with itself
While you circle it and wonder why
Nothing has been ordered you think
And that suspicion creeps fast towards you
A joke perhaps or something more
Something worthwhile that a forest fell
And is still falling to bring mysterious treats
To a doorstep far away
In the hope of joy awakening

June days 8 and 9

There's a haiku here, a sure sign of playing poetry catch up!
Solitude Solitude wraps me in a blanket and offers a broad shoulder to cry on
Newt A scaled foot in weed, The eye, watching you looking. Blinks and disappears.

June poetry days 6 and 7 - Sunburn and Sea

The sea carries its sunburn lightly tonight
Dipping beneath the waves to sail the sky
For the waking of the other side of the world

June poetry days 4 and 5 - behind already!! Indecision and Mindful

The indecision is mine
The consequence yours
I fight my troubled mind
While you argue with yours
If I turn away it is not in hate
I have released you
Accept it

Thinking about
Creator God
The planet
The seas
People all over the world
Everyone in my community
Everyone not in my community
Just everyone
Keep some room for me.

Be kind
Remember others
Try hard
Do your best
Accept the reality of your situation
Be brave

Poetry day 3 - Kettle

Kettle Polly puts the kettle on when she is fed up.This is a mistake because as she slams the dented red metal down on the kitchen table, hot water takes its cue and leaps out.She watches as the scalding stream hisses towards her arm, bare to the elbow and waits for the bite.She could have moved but she chose not to.She could have screamed but she chose not to.The mistress looked on fast movements and loud noises with little enthusiasm although she was four floors up.When you least expected it, she would make a comment about the running of the house and you would lose your monthly afternoon off.Polly spends the rest of the morning with a sore arm and worsening temper.She needs that afternoon off this week.
I decided to try prose today.  It might lead to something.  Or not.

June poetry day 2 - studio

I've never been a dancer but this is how I imagine it might feel.

Studio the studio is hot and dark there but light right here on go the lamps - bang - and the scene is real feet scratch the surface padding powder puffs trailing damp as a sign that we are at work music pounds a beat within though there is silence without movement is swift, contorted, full of painful lust the twists, the curves and stretch more and give more and keep giving more
breathe now and smile. you live this. show them.