for those never-repeat moments,
shame I don’t have space
is the love of who rubs close
what matters really
the time to figure out
life, and youth and heart,
it’s all too consuming, of
the allure of work
mood grumping
productivity slumping
I’m a weak iron filing
my desk’s a deadly magnet
A poem for Day 30 of NaPoWriMo: a poem in reverse (last line first)
Alone,
I review
what I’ve done.
Alienated,
I question
what I’ve said.
Abused,
I wonder
what I deserved.
Bereaved,
I imagine
being alive again.
Happy?
I’ve forgotten
what it’s like.
A poem for day 27 of NaPoWriMo 2015: hay(na)ku
Of all the Queens, I sense I’m Hearts,
but it’s the evil that attracts:
the darker heart has much more power,
from Macbeth to panto’s roar.
A poem for day 23 of NaPoWriMo 2015: take a chance
Work always comes first,
the boldest diary colour
that turns everything else pale.
It dominates the pages, edging all the
fun bits out, leaving me isolated
to the point I must be insane.
Work is my safety, my go-to place of peace.
It blocks out spontaneity, seizes signs
of naughty and caprice.
Work has stolen precious time
with my wonderful only child:
“Mummy doesn’t play,” she says.
“She kind of works a lot.”
To hear her truth said out loud
touches a lonely place at core.
But I really don’t know how to play,
which must make me a desperate bore.
Dear Rhyme,
please be kind,
don’t betray
my poetic mind.
Dear Rhyme,
please be cool
don’t be obvious
or keep to the rules.
Dear Rhyme,
please be sure,
don’t contort or add extreme line length
to match the word before.
For Day 15 of NaPoWriMo: a poem that addresses an aspect of itself
Fear:
I creep around, spying other’s glory
through shrouds of envy and spite.
I stress, I spew belligerent bile,
I despoil what feels my birthright.
Trust:
If you only knew what your heart could spill.
If you only could allow
those creative gales to transform your gall
into work that makes you feel proud.
Fear:
That gale just feels like a deadly whip
that will beat my words to a pulp,
reducing me to a limping pace
while the rest of the world can gallop.
Trust:
Gallop implies a race to somewhere
while your journey is yours alone.
Pick supreme, your heart’s main theme,
and you’ll romp to the place called home.
A poem for Day 14 of NaPoWriMo 2015: A dialogue
Who knows how many times we’ve split:
Is it five, nine, twelve times, or more?
Whatever.
Each time, we end back right where we started:
Square one. No better, no further.
The same old reunion,
the promises made anew.
Waiting for the other to change,
and no change beginning to come.
Then the same old fights,
scrabbling down the same old paths
of recognition and delusion.
So I wonder if this time, when we finally split for real
– for probably the thirteenth time –
will it possibly be lucky for some?
It’s the way the bag bounces on her back
as she runs the alley to school.
Late again, but determined today
to stick to all the rules.
I don’t get it right all the time –
if ever. Yet she forgives me with her hand
that reaches out to curl around mine
before she sinks to dreaming land.
It’s the smile she saves to seek me out
when she wins her latest Gold.
It’s the hug she gets, win or lose,
for being so brave and bold.
It’s the trust she has in her big round eyes
that I’ll treasure in my box.
She’s about to grow, to become her own.
For now, she truly rocks.
A poem for day four of NaPoWriMo: love without saying love
Leather inlaid, you’re a classy thing:
stole my heart the second I saw you.
Early Victorian, I’m told by the man
who wooed you first, then shone you.
Who knows what charming prose
I’ll produce, posed as Victorian lady:
sitting demurely, fountain pen dipped
into secrets that emerge from maybe.
The melancholy moon, with a
bite out of its side,
does a smiley for the stars
surrounding.
The constellated night jewels
catch my breath,
lining up for their sightly
performance.
Minor. Major.
Who cares what key
they play their twinkly
chords in.
Their well-placed face,
their bling, their show,
will make the dark more
bearable.
Yet the brightest one
I only have eyes for:
It squeezes my heart’s
accordion.
For Day Two of NaPoWriMo: a poem about stars
inktuition 