#30 Coda

In a rush of unrepentantly self-indulgent meta-poetry, I give you one to end the month with because, I know I won't win medals for this, and some of the work I did was pretty suspect, and it's not the most arduous, painful or dangerous thing in the world, but - you know what? - this is my craft and my work and at the end of the day I set myself a challenge (and several sub-challenges) and I bloody finished it (and them) on time! So this is for me and all the people who did it too, and all you lovely people who read and commented and said "whooo!" in various flavours  :D

Somehow, left and right
Clasped hands and all
The trudging days
Of pleasure turned to grind
And then transmuted into new,
Surprising pleasures
Are now past and,
Gasping, we stand here,
Upon our peak.

Take your time to
Contemplate the others
Now awaiting light
The doors unlocked
The bright and flocking bodies
At the threshold,
Mocking darkness,
Mocking silence.

Smile at all the
New connections made
And how they pulled you
Through the drought days,
And the doubt days,
And the days that
Tugged out fountains from the air,
Miraculous as handkerchiefs -
All monogrammed by hand.

So now my sisters, brothers, sleep -
Close your eyes and,
For this little while,
Just cease.
Your work's complete -
Dream sweetly clasping
Fear's defeat.

#29 Wonderful Signs

I'm currently studying BSL. This is another true story (coz it turns out there's only so far mythology, seasons, and number associations can take me when it comes to poetry! :D).

She spins words out of
Thin air - spare, yet
Layered, and rich with
The craft of years.
Each sentence an efficient
Dance, each reprimand
Precise - a mallet tap
To guide the hapless.

Time maps out between
Her palms as she releases
Double-helix secrets
From her flesh,
Pressing memory
From liminal
To visible.

Somehow, last week,
We asked the magic
Question after months
Of feckless repetition and then
New dimensions trembled open,
Lotus-like, as petals
Bloomed from spikes,
Rare smiles scattered,
Drifted into place.

And we apprentices
Kept pace -
This new softness
All a portrait of
Her daughter and her
Clever ways who makes
Waves and wishes
With her mother,
And thunder with her
Distant father.

Our teacher's eyes glow,
Holding up this picture
Of her child - the one
Who knows so many worlds,
Whirling sure-foot,
Balancing on sleighted hands
And landing,
Wrapped in love
From every side.

Heart open wide,
Her mother smiles
And we nod, silent,
Thankful for this glimpse,
This trust, this touch,
This brimming image
Of what unguarded happiness
A parent's love can bring.

#28 My Second Love

Today I attended a workshop for Allographic on writing for children led by Joshua Seigal. One of the exercises was to write a love poem... to our favourite food. We decided that it would count as my NaPoWriMo poem of the day for a variety of reasons. I reckon that declaring it first counts... :) See if you can guess the foodstuff before the end.

Find out more about Josh at http://www.joshseigal.co.uk

How sweet your salty flesh,
Gathering its temptation to my tongue
On wafts of morning vapours
Or when the hard day's over.
You are undeniable,
Unmistakable, unfakeable.

I have stroked your cool,
Elusive edges til intention
Heats you to a gentle curl.
Expressive, delicious,
The thing most missed
By those who have renounced
Your family's kisses,
But you have cured me
Of my ills.

There is nothing that
You don't complete,
Savoury or sweet,
Neatly cleaved or
Heaved in one slick lick.

Accompanied or solo
Hole-filling you dole out
Comfort on cold nights
A morning delight,
A roadside surprise,
A wonder under blue skies...

Oh, bacon - say you'll stay
Forever mine.

#27 Across Constraint

Command me. I stand to the
Ordinance of your desire, on fire,
Naked to your gaze.
Stroke me with your words until I
Tremble, breathless,
Restless with anticipation,
Afraid of nothing but your
Indifference. Please. I
Need you to bring me to the
End, and then, spent,
Deliver me to rest.

#26 Carousel

This originally had a very different final stanza. I like it a lot better now.

I may be confusing you
With summer days -
Eyes for gazing into,
Reflecting endless skies,
The dart and shift-skimmer
Of dragonfly laughter, a voice
Lilting as a breeze
Through heavy nights.

I think I might be mixing you
With spring - fresh beginnings,
Cold giving way to colour,
Toil giving way to hope,
The scope of one sun-smiling hour
Gilded with infinity
Amid the shifting light.

It's possible that I've
Intermingled you with
Autumn nights -
The exhilarating spin
Of wind-bellow crashing
Mellowed afternoons,
The swish of vibrant signs
Kicked up and caught in books.

It occurs to me that we
Stand gripped as if in
Winter's stark, metallic absolutes,
Rooted in the waiting earth,
The silence of anticipation,
The deep and simple choices,
The dreamtime gathering of strength
Before the promised thaw.

#25 On the peril of Facebook ads

If you're looking for inspiration, you can do a lot worse than read the social media posts of creative, talented friends - e.g. Nick Rawle, whose Facebook musings can be found at https://www.facebook.com/nick.rawle

And he's a mighty fine photographer to boot: http://www.nickrphotography.com :)

They got me at last,
By past deeds impaired,
For where it was once bland,
Mad and resistible:
Silk dusky negligées
And dating for the aged,
It's all debonair shoes,
And new lightweight cycles.

I've been framed -
Heuristical statistics
Making a hole in my
Fiscals, wholesale risks
Beckoning bliss
With each bargain click,
Unmissable.

Too late to save me,
In a pauper's grave
They'll lay me -
Made of titanium frames
And lined with fine leather,
Headstone engraved with
Caveat emptor...

#24 The Race Run

And even with my
Chest in a vice
Legs leaden,
Breath mithering,
Fighting to be
Faster than mud
As I lug my meat,
These final steps are still
A curious treat,
Me wreathed in
Inexplicable grins
Through each gasp,
Clasped fists
A secret wreath
As I whisper:
"Single to town please"
Knees forgotten,
Stick rotting in a corner
These six months,
Running for a bus
Still a triumph.

#23 The Poet Cautiously Removes Her Jumper

Another challenge form - my first triolet, though something looks a little wrong - if there's a glitch, please let me know! :)

Summer's here at last
And the air sweats insects
Nothing moves too fast
Summer's here at last
All too soon it's past
But now it's nearly perfect.
Summer's here at last
And the air sweats insects

#22 Do the Little Things in Life

Some of my NaPoWriMo comrades and Facebook friends appear to be writing about their day’s saint today. With no offence intended, this is my take...

St. George says jack to me
A hackneyed archetype
All “look at me” with his
Smouldering Italian eyes
Fixed on a slightly dubious prize.

Maybe I’m bitter -
A feminist Welsh witch
Gritting old teeth at occupier fervour,
Nerve hit by symbolic pagan-killing.

He’s an interesting twist away from
The other fellas - remonstrators,
Snake-haters, hillock-makers, fishermen,
Kings and bones and gold-bound things,
All the big ones imports.

It seems I like my holy people local,
Vocal, quietly stubborn,
Humble, healing, proved
To have been breathing more than ink;
Psychopomps and gods and warriors
All have their place but not as saints.

I know it isn’t up to me, but
Yellow buds, a half-day holiday,
Dressing up and pungent vegetation,
Gwnewch y pethau bychain mewn bywyd,
Whispers more to me than violent adulation.

#21 True Story

The taxi driver leaves his vehicle,
Heaving with rage and despite
The spikes of stares and horns
He strides, broad-shouldered
In morning light, discarding
The other cars in their mounting heat.

As our bus passes he is returning,
Leaving faces burning with speculation
Gazes grazing, knuckles tight
Then words and gestures flying.
The 20 second drama of a fleeing vehicle,
Unscathed car and gunslinger
Has worked a charm on isolated souls.

As we withdraw again
I feel like something’s kindled
And, among my workaday,
I yearn to tell the tale
Of a driven man, betrayed,
Enraged, illuminated, or maybe,
Ultimately, just insane.

#20 Investment

Patently true - considering I'm doing this instead...

Today, I am revising,
Despite the beguiling light,
Crow call, twitter, buzzing bees,
And outdoor clatter.

I am stewed in matters
Academic, resisting
News feed, Twitter, DVDs,
And Facebook chatter.

I'm absorbing data -
Saying "maybe later" to
Fresh air, shopping, walking out,
And friendly banter.

Dammit, I'm revising.
Any minute now...

#19 Wild Honey

And she tastes sweet,
Sweet as chocolate did
Before you started counting.
Now calories and plantations,
Percentages and guilt and pounds
Drop to the ground
All foundered by her sweetness.

She is the welcome slap
Of ocean air,
Daring you to take its caress
To everywhere you feel,
Clear down to the
Bottom of your lungs,
Tug freshness into every
Crevice, scream your acceptance
In new and unknown tongues.

And she lights your sky,
Your glittering guide at night,
The smile that wakes you
And takes you by the hand at dusk.
She is the musk of
Summer rose, the first
Full fall of snow,
And now she's all you'll ever know.

#18 Printemps 2

The season brings its
Own bright colours, dancing in
Pink, white, and yellow.

Trees curtsey full skirts
To flirt with nodding buds, the
Lush spurting green spikes.

Warm gusts chase clouds that
Fade with each breath, no longer
Pall - decoration.

I stride, breathing deep,
Letting Spring leap into me,
And laugh with each step.

#17 Dogfight

Usually I love the wind,
Like facing up and
Pitting myself
Against its gusts, but,
Just for once
I'd've liked some still today
Quiet and calm,
Dark, bright, or cold
I don't mind
Just without the bind
Of doubling myself
To meet its
Playfully aggressive greetings.

My breath's been stolen
By rough slaps,
I'm chapped, unhappy,
Palpitating,
Waiting for my ears
To thaw
From sore to normal.

Yes, recovering
Grey-faced
And waylaid,
I would say
I could have
Done without
The wind today -
That beguiling brat
Who thinks it's all that,
Loving to chat shit
And steal my hat.

#16 Suspension

Tuesday was fun...

And she says:
I've changed your plans.
You understand, yeah?
That I'm the one who's
In command.

You? Irrelevant, really,
A means to project my energy
Into existence
An assistant, if you will;
Bearer of the bitter pill.

It's like this:
At the flick of some
Imaginary switch
Your life's unhitched
From its designated tracks
Sorry - I'm talking about
Whatever you thought
Was the direction
To head down.

I'm the queen of blips,
Missteps, glitches,
Disappearing lovers
And mysterious sickness.
The Greeks had name for me,
Yes, bless them,
They venerated Eris -
Goddess of jealous fate,
Spite, and spikes,
And tragic mistakes.

I've been around
Since humans first thought
They could rule themselves
You could say I've kept
Your whole lot
On their toes and
Don't suppose for
One moment that
Just because you know me
You can sit back...

Buckle up, and
Get uncomfortable, manchild,
I plan to be around until
The crack of Doom.

#15 Lilies

First. Ever. Sonnet...

I love to watch him, carefully and still
Who played out ardour, called me gentle names
I sit up here, upon what was our hill
And cry the world abroad my lover's fame.

His eyes, his heart, I fain would hold aloft
His clever fingers, soul of his embrace,
His well-made arms, all graced with hairs so soft,
His swift and shapely legs, and O! his face.

But see, his loving guardians, you are hard
Whose rough words me from rightful place do cheat
For I am sworn to take this noble shard
And part my false love now from all his meat.

And you who saw his acts but did not chide
You'd best hope that from me you too can hide.

#14 Chatter

This one came out of nowhere and is broadly true except for the actual "fact"... :)

And I can talk all night
About the Big Things -
Life and Death,
Earth and Sky,
Sea and Fire and Why,
But if I try for the small
And intense - the dense,
The less unseeably immense,
Your guess is as good as mine
On how to describe them.
Like the time you finally
Told me that you loved me
Next to the bins at Tesco,
An al fresco statement
That just sits there -
Bereft of all attempts to
Get in, explode and analyse deftly
Except that its weft
Definitely anchored you
Truly to the warp my life is
The infinitesimal start
Of hearts as a
Still-frighteningly close weave
That leaves me breathless
When I reach out,
Look around to the train
That trails behind
And winds round corners,
See how much more is left
To be clattered together
Line by line...

#13 Yours Always

I seem to be choosing to be inspired (however obscurely sometimes) by the numbers themselves quite often in this challenge...

She gets restless
Every four weeks,
Needs to complete her rounds,
Grounds herself in cleaning,
A means to forget a past life.

Darts about the house
Ousting dust and grime
While chanting against
The remnants of rememberance,
The chance that she might fall.

She is warding against
The tenets of fate
Mistakes, missteps, known
Alone by her,
Girded by hard work.

Shrouded alone in dust,
Musty under locks,
The box waits
For the day her muster's
Not enough.

For the day she stumbles
Crumples up her will
And spills colours
Under her pricking thumbs -
What comes must come.

When gaudy pictures slide,
Glide her back to truth,
Ruthlessly laid out,
Doubt eradicated,
Debts repaid.

She'll gaze at the hand dealt,
Draw breath and gather all
Her swords again,
Blending her purpose and her magic,
Tragedy and death's hope.

#12 Laborious

Treacherous golden
Fur spurs sacrifice, armour
Carved from enmity.

Spawned for vengeance he
Hacks heads dreading the hiss of
Reawoken flesh.

Swifter than sunlight
Hero's plight wins forgiveness;
Politeness trumps spite.

Undaunted by the
Heat of pursuit, arrogance
Is cooled in a jar.

One day to make a
Difference, sluicing the neglect
Of years clean away.

Cry havoc! Unleash spite
On cowed head until bright noise
Drives you from your bed.

Bring the might of this
Yet untroubled king to his
Knees - a fit tribute.

Man-eating nags can
Only be soothed by their lord's
Flesh - best rest ever.

Princess craves a royal
Gift; jealous rift rips living
Breath from girt queen's lips.

Elements conspire,
A year of tireless pursuit
Bears out giant fruit.

Laughter rings and he weeps
For brief golden memories
And your heavy tricks.

Wrest friend and pet from
Frigid dark, hark at captive
Whines, win long-sought rest.

#11 The One Left Behind

It was dark then,
The others slept,
A perfect time
For whispers,
Clutched garments,
The scent of secrets.

Inescapable desperation
Moved me, and finally
We kissed.
You looked at me,
Unfathomable,
The ground dropping
From my world.

As the night came alive
With the sounds of death
The others, belated, wept -
I was the one
Who stood with you
That night in the garden.
Not them.

It is cold now,
The air empty of your breath,
Still in the caverns
Of your silence.
It was dark then
And, though the cock has crowed,
I know the sun will never
Come for me again.

#10 Indelible

Tanka - challenge prompt - are only slightly more difficult than senryū...

All that remains is
For you to inscribe my laws,
Ensure they're obeyed.
But remember, son, he said
That they don't apply to me.

#9 Lleu Llaw Gyffes' Woman

Imagine if she'd said no:
Don't give me claws -
I was given for loving,
I did only as you made me.

Imagine her saying it:
No, don't kill him -
Send us into exile,
Beyond sight,
Tell them I died.

Imagine if she'd refused:
No - let's just run away,
Let this be about you and me,
Not you and him.
Theft is better than murder.

Imagine if she'd said:
I never imagined men
Were like you - tender, attentive,
Bearing their own names,
Fragrant, unfettered by fate,
But first I need to leave him.

Imagine if she'd refused:
New-minted, the world glinting,
Let me touch it
With my softness first,
Then choose my own chains.

Imagine her saying it:
I will not turn,
I'll stay scattered, natural,
Making love to earth
And sunlight.

Imagine if she'd said yes:
My son, my own,
You'll grow to be a man,
And just a man,
Wound round with women's love.

#8 Compounding

I've learned a lot
In my lifetime
About what doesn't mix.
Despite individual deliciousness
Best separate quick,
Like Ribena and milk,
Saunas and silk,
My skin and chocolate,
Partners and politics.

#7 Excel Now

1

I met a man once
Who was brindled with kisses,
Dusted with love
From crown to tail.

He smiled at me sidelong,
I grinned at his misses,
And none of us got
To St. Ives that day.

2

She winds her hair into
A loose carapace,
Stretches, all self-conscious,
Face averted says:
"Well, I don't tend to
Credit it - this superstitious stuff."

I nod, I've never told her just
How many times my mother tried,
How many times my mother cried,
And what that makes me.

I stare in the direction
Of her reflection-absorbed visage,
Thinking bitterly how blissful
Ignorance must be.

3

Stack their several
Personalities and you
Might get a whole man.

Stereotyping
Is irresistible and
I'm not paid enough.

They're sitting on a
Gold mine but can't see it yet;
It makes me so mad.

4

I tried counting them -
Definitely more than a handful,
And less than two,
The task proving tricky.

More an elegant
Coincidence than what
You might call a pack,
They lack the desire to gather

So I never measured them
Successfully, never discovered
If it was her or her seeming sister
I kissed that night
Before she glided clean away.

5

Before I knew
What I was doing
They were twinkling in my hand
Then in my pocket.

"Docking your wages," I think,
"Won't start to cover this,"
But the tingling bliss of possession
Springs me through the door.

More than enough
To start anew
If I haven't screwed myself
Past the sticking point.

6

I don't hold with
All that - animal parts,
Mutant plants,
Pasternosters handed out.

You make your own -
Blow your own tune,
Rue your own mistakes,
Roll high on good stakes

Or trust your blood
The alchemy of a mother's
Final gift,
A glittering list of fathers,
Further shores beckoning;
It always pays
To plan your reckoning.

7

I've seen my share
Held them beating
Or trickling from my grip
And one night -
One memorable night -
I tasted all of them.
Mostly one by one,
But some at the same time.
Delicious, really.

Except this one -
And who seeks her out?
The green-eyed sister
Who lives to lurk
Around blissful corners,
To jump and tug you down,
Gritted teeth chiming
Down to your icy guts.

The best I've garnered
From her hooked embrace
Is to face up,
And gently talk her to the floor,
Then stand on her back
To better see what next.
You've got to get high
If you want to excel.

#6 Statute

I don't usually do intros, but this was inspired by visiting the Louvre in Paris recently, and seeing, among other things of beauty (we mostly stuck to the Classical statues - you can't hope to "do" the whole museum in a day), the Venus de Milo. I don't usually do set forms, but NaPoWriMo is all about the challenges, so this is a terzanelle, or approximation thereof.

Love appears to be disarmed
And where she points is empty
By powers absent we are charmed

Antiquity has lost her sentry
Her guards are lost or sleeping
And where she points is empty

By night came thieves in dark and creeping
By day with flags and trumpets bold
Her guards are lost or sleeping

We revere them, sere and cold
Visit them in crowded dreaming
By day with flags and trumpets bold

White or black or gilded gleaming
We come from all across the Earth
Visit them in crowded dreaming

From them we seek to fill some dearth
Love appears to be disarmed
We come from all across the Earth
By powers absent we are charmed

#5 Metropolitan

I have become acquainted, lately,
With the hands of strangers.
Mindful of small spaces,
We avoid each others' eyes
But I find myself
Hypnotised by signs of lives
Lived invisible to me except
For telltale skin, hints from nails,
The way some grips never falter
And others slip, regrouping at
Every other breath.

I've become obsessed with knuckles,
Wondering at how they buckle minds
To poles as their owners shift and sway,
Maybe already waiting for their bodies
At their destinations,
Or lingering behind.

No wonder that the strap-hangers
Seem to mourn,
Bereft of spirit,
Antennae coiled,
Clipping the close air around them into
The space defined by music, maps,
And the convenient trap of handspace,
Their lives carved into
Scrimshawed anchors.

I uncouple, step free
To find myself reflected
In the fleeting, myriad slivers
Of commuters' reflections,
Select a face to best fit
And slip, another salmon,
Up to air, to reach myself again,
Running my fingers in greeting
Over my own unspoken grain.

#4 Zombie

It took slow,
The creeping death
That hosts me now;
No shouts -
This sour air patterned
By a clattering whine

I'm sick of all these silences
That ring
Where we had
Singing eyes
And dancing hands,
Where our bright gladness
Was infectious.

I'm sick of stillness
And sick of lurching in-between,
This race from mere to mere
Brings no grace
Like the pace that
Named us in our past age

And I feel nothing but
This dull and jealous rage,
This poison ache
That grates
But still won't shake me.
I am torpor's prisoner,
Seething in this shallow brew;
Slight, meaningless, and grey.

#3 Suddenly, at 3:45am

Migraine announces
Own end like an alarm bell.
Thanks - I was sleeping!

#2 French Swimming Pool

I'm no mermaid -
That chance left long ago
And so I approach l'eau
Avec trepidation,
Celui ci n'est pas courage,
C'est une homage de
Ma copine qui loves it:
Piscine, pristine, cleaving waves
With ease, teasing gravity's grip
And slipping free -
In her element.

It isn't mine -
I'm nervous, always,
At what I see as this perversion -
This is no excursion,
At best a dare,
As I bare my fear and flesh
To this chlorine-choked,
Faux-marine scene.
Pushed past by children -
Rushing, cocky, mocking
The earthbound with
Sure-footed folly over
Smooth wet slabs to splash!
And roll and glide,
Thoughtless.

I'm tired,
I've been translating myself
All week -
Entreating ancient memories
Tugging at understanding
Sometimes just nodding
As I tread awkward water
Until I find my feet.
You are politely plural,
I always turn my head the wrong way,
And apologies are desolate
Until I'm told "C'est ne pas grave!"
Je ne suis pas suave, je crois
Mais ça ne fait rien.
Alors, bien, I'll shrug off
Disappointments and paddle,
Quacking only when I'm crossed.

As I submerge myself,
Trust my skill's suspension,
I find that I can still breathe
My more customary fire
When required,
That, on my own terms,
Not only do I not die,
But I can bob, smiling,
Buoyant for a while -
Un peut plus lentement,
Si'l vous plaît, does wonders.

And I may never now be chic
But I've learned that I can
Slip between these states of being,
These balances of tongue,
And limb, and breath,
And best my terror,
Gentle guest in another's country,
Still myself.

#1 Printemps

She peeks,
Bright and unreliable
She coquettes, pirouettes,
As yet untouchable.
Yesterday, late,
She turned a twinkling eye
Over her shoulder,
Fingers still extended
To her father.

Today she faces us,
Her smile almost unbearable
To starving eyes.
And despite ourselves,
We wag cautious tails
Among shivering pink
And thin green decorations,
Hope that hand she raises now
Is beckoning.

Appetite no longer dulled
Amid anticipation's bones,
We feel a warmth stir
That we'd long supressed,
Pretending stoicism,
Looking forward to the rest.

Cross-posted from Main Blog

From http://fayrobertspoet.blogspot.com/:

So, I saw that me old mucker Mark Niel, Poet Laureate of Milton Keynes¹ is gearing up for his annual challenge of writing a poem a day for a month. I’m feeling seriously lacking in new poems at the moment, so thought I’d take up the challenge as well.

Turns out it’s all about NaPoWriMo (“National Poem Writing Month”²), something I’ve been considering going in for off and on over the last few years. And now, just as my life gets really busy (again), I’ve decided to give it a go. What could go wrong?!

I’ll be setting myself some ground-rules - things like the percentage of the poems that are “allowed” to be haiku/ senryū, whether I’m allowed to “double-up” if I’ve missed a day, that kind of thing. I know it’s not exactly Tim Clare’s “101 Poems in a day” annual challenge, but it’s quite enough for me right now! :D

So as not to overwhelm everything in NaPoWriMo stuff, I’ve set up a NaPoWriMo-only blog: http://fayrobertsnapowrimo.blogspot.com/. Feel free to keep an eye on it and comment where appropriate...!

So, join me and Mark and our fellow NaPoWriMoers in the challenge; see you on the other side!

_________________________________________

¹ seriously - stop being surprised - there’s a lot of culture in MK; well... much more than you’d expect, anyway...

²Yes, like NaNoWriMo

NaPoWriMo 2013

I’ve never done this before, but I’m going to start this year.

You can see other examples of my poetry at http://fayrobertspoetry.blogspot.com/

Until April! :D