Is it Poetry?

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Workout

Panting and puffing I’m feeling the burn
Even though I’ve done only a minute
This machine is the work of the devil I’m sure
Oh god, I think I might vomit

I’m treading the mill to try and get fit
But I think this thing’s going to kill me
My bosom is heaving I’m sweating like mad
All this jiggling…. It’s making me wee… (just a little)

Increasing the incline and upping the speed
My little legs pumping like crazy
I feel the weight lifting I’m floating on air
Oohhh… everything’s going quite hazy

Finally, slowly, it grinds to a halt
I’ve done ten whole minutes… can’t talk
Although I’m all wobbly I’m feeling quite chuffed
Maybe one day I’ll jog, not just walk

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Sorry, it just came out that way…

Oh dear, I am sorry about this. I don’t really know where this came from today.  I was in the mood for writing a bit of verse and just came up with the first couple of lines and, well, it kinda gathered pace from there.

Sorry, no accompanying picture to cheer things up either. I did have some beautiful dark velvety tulips last year, but the bulbs were severely trampled on by the man-fence men when they installed the man-fence a month or two ago, so I think I might be tulip-less this year…

Anyhoo…sorry again for this bit of quite depressing verse!!

Why?

They asked why
I chose black tulips for his grave
The petals
Unforgiving to the touch
with fragile strength
cloak a secret centre
Their elusive lustre
glimpsed for but a moment
then quelled in this perfidious place
How earnestly they droop their sombre heads
As lifeless they lie limp on burnished wood
And they asked why
I chose black tulips for his grave

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Five day challenge, Day 5 – Athenaeum

The last day of my five day challenge – gosh that’s gone quickly!  I must thank Scillagrace for inviting me to take part, it’s been fun!

For today I’ve written a couple of verses inspired by the photo of the famous Bodleian Library which I took a few years ago when we visited Oxford, England.  I had never visited Oxford before, but my husband studied there so knew it well, and he was able to show me all the sights, as well as taking me punting on the river!

oxford 001

Athenaeum

In the labyrinth of my mind
My memory library dwells
That vaulted endless space
Where secrets quietly die
and story-spun webs
Are bound with the knots of life

Accommodating each new day
The dusty library swells
Discarding faded pages
‘til but snapshots remain
Of long-gone skies and
Half remembered faces

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Every Tiny Stitch

DSC_0774

Creating the canvas with silken thread
Each day with different colours weaving
On whitest linen in smallest stitches
The complexity of life I’m living

Red jelly and custard birthday parties
a childhood spent in lonely play
Crepe paper hats and satin costumes
Kite flying on a windy day

Sunshine yellow of early teen years
Pop idol screaming in the park
Hot pants, boas, and minis and maxis
Cow bells, music, moon walks in the dark

Shocking pink in early womanhood
living dangerously on last tube home
first job jitters, first date delights
while family snaps to monochrome

Rich dark purple of dreams destroyed
Bleeding wounds traced in crimson thread
Tear tracks, pills, and Empty purses
Disillusioned, discarded, life filled with dread

But then the scarlet of surrender
The blush of finding first true love
Warmth of babes, new lives beginning
The tangerine joy of motherhood

Now the lavender skein is needed
As the empty phase begins
How my coloured garden sows those
Wild brown wrinkles on the skin

The final years with wizened fingers
forging murals bittersweet
‘til only the blackest thread remains
the tapestry will be complete

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Writing 201, Poetry – Day 10

The last day.  I just knew it would be a bloomin’ sonnet… and ‘Chiasmus’ what the…..!!! Ben Huberman sure knows how to set a challenge.  Anyhoo… it would be churlish not to give it a go.  The theme for today is ‘Future’.

Before I start though, I’d like to say a big thank you to everyone involved in writing 201 – it’s been a blast, and this final poem (sonnet or not) is for you cruel lot!

To be honest, I’ve no idea if this really counts as a sonnet or not, but hey ho…

And so to the future…

I feel so sad on this the final day
of themes and challenges that stretched my thoughts
verse and rhyme that left my mind macramé
and tied my tongue in never-ending knots

Wittily challenged, challenged wittily,
Each sunrise came with devious demands
Devices and words spewing awkwardly
From unobliging pen in clumsy hands

But slowly, slowly with encouragement
From distant friends within the common web
My courage soon replaced embarrassment

And now my pen is sweeping ‘cross the page
Broad strokes of rhyming rhythm in its wake
more learnèd now I bow from this great stage

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Writing 201, Day 9 – Landscape

Oh my, today’s challenge gave me a fright! The task was to write a ‘Found Poem’ using words from random articles, books, etc, on the theme of Landscape, using Enumeratio (listy stuff).  To be honest I could have spent several days playing with this, but with only an hour or so to spare today, this is what I’ve come up with. A little lacking in Enumeratio, but hey..

Not sure if it makes any sense whatsoever to anyone else, but it kinda works in my head!  What I’ve learnt today is that I’m pants at cutting out and sticking – I’ve made a right old mess 🙂

Nonetheless, I did what I was told, and cut out and stuck (with thanks to The Guardian), but just in case you can’t read it for the excess glue, I’ve typed it out below.

PDP 3How Much Should We Laugh?

Streetwise city
silencing the bagpipes
brings home heroes
with promise of new stars and harmony
They were not scared
rising from the rubble
for there’s no better time to build

Still

No distance between them
they were still alive
ready to kill us
I saw the muzzle flash
fall down buried in
the void the blood
There’s no damn reset button

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Writing 201, Poetry – Day 8 ‘drawer’

Today the prompt is ‘Drawer’ and the poem should be in the form of an Ode (in praise of something or someone) using the poetry form Apostrophe (no, not one of them, but it’s a term that means a poem that speaks to an individual).

Right ho then.

Well, I’m a day late. I spent a long time yesterday morning working on some verses ’til my mind was drowning in mediocre metaphors and sinful similies.  The resulting ‘poem’ turned out to be utterly awful and actually quite a bit ‘off piste’ too. So it’s been abandoned (stuck in a drawer) I’ll go back to it another day and when I eventually finish it it will delight you with its wonderful wordsmithery and melodic meter. In the meantime, well….

I can only apologise….

An Ode to my Knickers

You’re not big bloomers or tiny thongs
Just Marks and Spencer cotton ones
You give my bum a soft embrace
Without the need of frills or lace
You smooth my contours, hide my flaws
What would I do without you drawers?

My muffin top would surely flop
above my trendy trouser top
There’d be a draft about my aft
I’m sure my rear would get quite chaffed
But with the help of your elastic
Oh dear drawers, I feel fantastic!

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Writing 201 Poetry – Day 7

Today’s challenge is to write a piece of ‘prose poetry’ using assonance, with the theme of ‘fingers’.

Phew, got something of my chest here….!!


The Uninvited

You entered with your sticky fingers, inviting yourself to view my life.  You saw me through your strangers eyes.  My family, my face watching from the frames, while you walked past touching, taunting, terrorising. Past the sofa where on winter nights we huddle and cuddle while watching crime dramas on TV where the likes of you are shot and killed by dedicated and determined men. Up the stairs past graduation photos, you begin to know us, know our story, who we are, our minor glories. Rummaging, rampaging, through private rooms where love thrives. Tossing children’s toys aside in ways which children never ought. You pick, you choose, you take. You take my memories, you take my keepsakes, you take my security.  You callous individual with your sticky fingers, did you think I would forgive?

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Writing 201- Day 6

Well today’s challenge proved a toughie for me.  The theme was ‘Hero (or heroine)’ so I’ve gone a bit literal, using the myth of Hero and Leander (yes, I know it’s been done far better by the likes of Christopher Marlowe, but hey, it’s all I could think of).  We were tasked to write a ballad using Anaphore or Epistrophe (or both) which is a fancy way of saying starting, or finishing, a line with the same word, hence the rather weird construction of this poem!! Anyhoo, here it is, all very sad…. 😦

The Tragic Love of Hero and Leander

In myth, ‘tis said, the priestess Hero,
in summer found her love.
In nights warm blanket
in lamp-lit secret
in so-cold sea he swam,
in the darkness climbed her tower, and
in her chamber she succumbed, ‘til…

In rough waters, despite endeavor,
in confusion he was lost.
in her anguish, weeping Hero,
in the water joined Leander, who
in that darkness rest his head, so
in drowning joined forever,
in tragedy they bound their love.