Sunday 6 April 2014
NaPoWriMo 2014 Day 6: Promethean
The poet Maitreyabandhu said in a talk that Poetry is not therapy and I don't agree with him. I will acknowledge that therapeutic poetry can struggle to be good poetry as we are wrestling with something that we can't quite get to grips with but for me poetry can be exactly the tool for working with those things we don't understand yet. For bringing some light to them.
Promethean
My eyes are on fire.
She must know what she's doing
with the man in her charge.
Attended all legal training.
I don't want to do it.
Where is the line between
politeness and duty?
Stop sticking my nose in.
I don't want to do it.
The establishment is voiceless,
surely with approval?
Risk assessments in place.
Surely?
A silence falls in the room.
An insidious calm, that whispers,
pretend.
Pretend as if it never happened,
that everything is ok.
Until you are silly enough
to turn around.
Fool enough
to see him bound.
What emotion
surges from the sea
of consciousness?
A compassion for another's suffering,
which widens out to all those beings
who find themselves tied?
A fear that we might be next?
That the wheel turns onward
to tear all faculties from us.
The shame of the wrong choice?
That evil can occur this day
if we choose not to act.
Or can we finally stop lying
that people are fixed
and chained to one position.
Acknowledge the truth
that we are a vortex
of all these and more.
Including the part
you choose to abhor
bearing sympathy
for the jailor.
For the meticulous
accounting of events
that lead them there.
Saturday 5 April 2014
NaPoWriMo 2014 Day 5: Blossom
It has been quite a mild winter in the UK and with the sunlight it has brought out the blossom a lot earlier than usual. From the window of the community gym I go to there is a fantastic tree blooming with rich red.
Blossom
Not every ghost is there to warn or haunt us.
See how these play in the newborn sunlight,
speak of when winter couldn't clog your lungs.
Let them invigorate your dormant mysteries.
Escape from the shade of the new moon
to join and share your resplendent beauty.
This dance upon the branches is brief, so
inspire and do not resent the fatal wind.
Live within dreams of the following spring.
Friday 4 April 2014
NaPoWriMo 2014 Day 4: Doe Eyed for the Darkened Corners
So this came from http://www.napowrimo.net/ first prompt which involved using the following divining tool http://bibliomancyoracle.tumblr.com/askoracle and I got led to a piece called 'I recommend the Zebra Lounge' by Megan Volpert and it led me to write this...
Doe Eyed for the Darkened Corners
When she said that piano bars are for the lost
I was heady with the sweet romanticism.
The way smoke smells so heaven sent
the week after you've quit again.
Reminds me of a man who wanted a gin joint
so he could down ruin and clutch the glass,
as the bitter fire churned his gut.
Not that he had any sorrows.
Just knew the misery would find him
if he could land the right venue
and I think we've all got that faulty wiring.
Sparking pleasure from the wallowing
and it's fine for a time
if we can acccept it's a choice.
That shouting and yelling
is a lot cheaper than beer
and there are a host of hands
out there, reaching to help us.
Thursday 3 April 2014
NaPoWriMo 2014 Day 3: Blogger
At the Poetry Business writing day last saturday Peter mentioned how great it was that a Ted Hughes poem mentioned a coal shed and asked how many people had one in their childhood home. It's been playing on my mind that a lot of my poetry doesn't make much of a nod to the time I am from and I guess that is where this comes from. It fell into being a sonnet of its own accord but I think the final two lines might be labouring the point too much.
Blogger
Their spider like fingers trapeze across the keys.
Spine steadily fusing into a sharper curve,
allowing their lobes to lunge toward the screen.
Tabs whirl as if caught by a breeze
before a downpour of characters
drench the browser with details.
Each page revealing one more digital native,
foraging for memes and reams of knowledge.
For the like minded to offer them validation.
Striking that enter Key can make thoughts global.
An instant electrical, mental connection
tempered by a cold physical distance.
Hasn't that always been the condition?
Every one of us so close, yet so far.
Wednesday 2 April 2014
NaPoWriMo 2014 Day 2: An Assay of Stone
This came out of the week 13 prompt from Jo Bell's 52 weeks blog. http://fiftytwopoetry.wordpress.com/
An Assay of Stone
The fracking began on her chest
as if shale gas
might be hidden in a ventricle
or parted from the vena cava.
Though as pale as a cliff
no fault or fracture
could mar her visage.
She knew every abuse.
That they could carve her,
delight in their design
and still not own her
for they would burn out
long before the chisel of time
had ground more
than a few layers from her.
She only begrudged
how they removed her teeth
of diamond and gemstone
for mere decoration.
Tuesday 1 April 2014
NaPoWriMo Day 2014 1: With Royal Ease
With Royal Ease
Falling from encounter to encounter
from work agenda to beer drunk banter.
Anxiety is a prisoner
constantly rattling my cage.
So to see how the figure sits,
as if no doubt could disturb.
I ask if it sees the golden thread
drawing us all to the heavens.
Something beyond thought and form.
Wednesday 1 May 2013
NaPoWriMo Day 30: With Hindsight
This is it ladies and genetleman, we are done. NaPoWriMo 2013 - 30 /30 poems completed - achievement unlocked.
With Hindsight
Puberty was a detonation in the head.
Looking back at splinters of the past
I see so many strands of self
orbiting some core essence.
Each of my past incarnations
bearing such alien neural architecture,
yet seeming to coalesce over time.
Drawing toward the pure thought
that gave rise to this form.
The purpose I've yet to fulfill,
still sickeningly unknown.
A script still to be written
but I know
that as I sharpen mind
and strengthen sinew,
I will be ready
for the sublime performance,
when that final curtain rises.
With Hindsight
Puberty was a detonation in the head.
Looking back at splinters of the past
I see so many strands of self
orbiting some core essence.
Each of my past incarnations
bearing such alien neural architecture,
yet seeming to coalesce over time.
Drawing toward the pure thought
that gave rise to this form.
The purpose I've yet to fulfill,
still sickeningly unknown.
A script still to be written
but I know
that as I sharpen mind
and strengthen sinew,
I will be ready
for the sublime performance,
when that final curtain rises.
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