2016.18 Conclusion

I've counted them up, and I've already written 33 poems this month.  Between #napowrimo entries, #poetrytogo commissions, random birthday card inserts, and "write me a haiku about having my hair cut" challenges, I've done over the amount required for me to "pass" NaPoWriMo.

And yet.  Yet I've given myself a barrel of grief over not doing it properly.

And luckily, some good people were there to tell me why, in the kindest terms possible, that's just nonsense. Weirdly, it's what I would have told them myself, were the roles reversed.  One to try to remember, eh?

This one's for them/ you:

---

It's been quite a difficult session,
What with being in thrall of obsession -
It's hard to find time
For good, shorter rhymes,
When you're learning a show - did I mention?

My head's full of timings and edits,
And "Is that how they would have said it?"s,
But if I scribble more,
Quickly ramp up my score,
This might still redound to my credit.

If I stay up 'til late in the night
And tie myself down just to write,
I might feel some pride
And no longer deride
These efforts I deem far too slight.

But you intervened - some of my friends -
And took time to kindly amend
My self-image so low,
Saying "time to let go -
With just one, you've still won, in the end."

See, turns out it's just me who sees failure,
Who's forcibly tucked in my tail, yeah.
I'll stop kicking myself -
It's just bad for my health -
And indulge in some kinder behaviour.

2016.17 Contradiction

Winter stirs the blossom white
Our Springtime warmth is out of sight.
All I dare to hold
Is governed by the cold -
The sun seems far too slight.

2016.16 Vale of Tears

So, my partner asked me to write her a poem about her (extreme) love of Benedict Cumberbatch and all his works. My other attempt headed off somewhere very dark and archetypal, so I haven't handed that over to her.  Here, instead, is a triolet (because I figured that the repetitive structure suited obsession well...).

I cup the face that sprang from dreaming,
Those cheekbones cold beneath my palm
Soft-bitten lip to stifle screaming
I cup the face that sprang from dreaming,
Those gelid eyes of green unseaming!
The best advice is to stay calm...
I cup the face that sprang from dreaming,
Those cheekbones cold beneath my palm.

Intermission

Some of you may have noticed that I appear to be skipping numbers. This is because, while I am writing the invisible ones, they're staying unpublished for a variety of reasons.

As you were... :)

2016.13 Selkie

Inspired by the fairytale senryū series and - of course - by #theselkie - a tanka:

Seal's pelt stolen, now
Woman walks in gravity,
Chained to dry land and
Cursing everything except
The innocence born of theft.

---

Invoking emergency tanka at this stage... And no, of course I'm not writing these all this quickly - they just haven't been typed up from last week(end).

2016.12 Trampoliniste

Another #poetrytogo commission, aided and abetted in the last stretch by @MyriamWordmaker and @AnaisBokanovsky:

Lovely girl, you bring light,
A delight in the arc of limbs
Flinging themselves with precision
Across the sky.

Tu éclaires - avant le sommeil
Les mots dansent,
En pages et dans
Ton esprit pétillant.

Childhood's fripperies are
Giving way, inch by inch
Aux dictionnaires, et au sens pratique,
Activities amid the trees.

Mais, dans la forêt,
Et dans tes rêves,
Never forget - love
Colours everything, mon coeur.

---

Another Poetry To Go commission, this time for a seven-year-old child of French and English parents who is very active, practical, and creative.

2016.11 Quality Check

I was back in Cardiff to visit family last weekend. This poem turned up on the train back. 

You ask me:
What does it need?
Your tastes run to salty
And I must dodge the
Obvious clichés.

I say: it's lovely, but
It needs a high note
To complete it;
Drip in more of that -
Stir well.

I have compromised everything
And this is the final
Absolution as you,
Unsure but colluding,
Use my father's taste to confirm
What I learned after my mother's parting -
This intercontinental blend
Needs more honey and lemon.

2016.10 Once Upon A Time

This is something I'll be doing more of longer-term for highlighting #theselkie; in the meantime, enjoy this series of themed senryū (bonus points for guessing the origins): 

The lonely monarch
Grasps a heart, which freezes - now
His sister seeks them.

A betrayal of
Fragments gathers them into
A sticky embrace.

A great heart lusts for
Larger adventures. Cow make
For strange vehicles.

Three vessels marred, and
One consumed. Rudeness comes in
A golden package.

Warnings aren't enough;
Troubles cluster to colours;
What big eyes you've got!

Tempers best kept have
Left threads tangled. A nameless
Solution now looms.

Strange, sensitive soul;
To stay high and dry you must
Pass a testing night.

A wish gifts movement
But soon truth will be proved by
This rhinomancy.

Learn to love his stuff -
Swapping won't bring back good times,
Rub it all you like.

It's jam tomorrow -
Good marketing brings rewards:
Seven at one blow.

---

Yes, I'm running behind. It'll all work out by Saturday, I'm sure...

2016.8 Clarion

Another #poetrytogo commission:

Your voice is a constant -
Sea wind on the clifftop.
You are beckoning -
The movement of clouds.

Beach-bound and shadowed
I listen, washed and washing -
Salty, moon-girt,
Trickling and gritty.

Eyes strain high -
And finally I cast lines,
Climb into hard embraces,
Hand-over-hand - escaping erosion.

Here, muscles bunching,
I sweat and clench,
Then kick and swing,
A laugh swooping into air.

Blisters harden,
Graft gathers me
Against gravity -
Higher and drier.

Here your voice sings louder -
A tug to the final push -
I hook strong fingers
Into gravity and heave.

And here, gasping,
The sun's heat finds me
And I am singing your song,
High on the headland,
Seeing everything anew.

---

Another Poetry To Go commission - this time from a woman who wanted a metatextual poem about the difficulty (and joy) of writing (poetry), having fallen out with it after a certain high profile poet told her that she was no good at it. I think I tried to give her something with a measure of hope mixed with reality. Would love to know if it worked...!

2016.7 Small Shaggy Dog

Another #poetrytogo commission:


What good is a dog
Who won't pay heed,
Who tangles herself
When you put on her lead?

What good is a dog
Who can't see cars,
Who eats LEGO bricks
Like a creature from Mars?

What good is a dog
Who thinks she's a train,
Who pulls at you, chuffing,
And leaps in the rain?

What good is a dog
Who slips and slides,
Who slithers while
Other dogs give their folks pride?

You know what - those other dogs
May be quite nice,
Smart, and well-behaved,
But they just won't suffice.

See, the good of this dog
Is the strength of her heart,
And the way that you miss her
Whenever you part.

For the love of this dog
Will be there to the end,
In this bouncing, brown, barking-mad,
Wonderful friend.

---

If you'd told me that I'd write a rhyming poem about a dog and enjoy it immensely, I'd've laughed at you. And I would have been very wrong.

2016.6 Can You Spy Mariam?

Another #poetrytogo commission: 


Mariam means Mary
Mary makes the garden grow
Gardens grow up to make parks
Parks wander into forests
This forest hides a mysterious tower
The Tower shelters Rapunzel
Rapunzel reads books
Books that speak of little girls
This little girl loves pink and purple
Purple sunsets summon dreams
Dreams of pets like panda bears!
Panda bears that love to dance!
Dancing makes you hungry
Hungry girls eat lots of sweets
Sweet dreams, Mariam...

______________
Mariam was adamant that this poem MUST NOT RHYME! You've got to admire that kind of focus at five. I think I managed to squeeze in all her favourite things here...

2016.5 X9C3-2

We should be asking:
Where's the line
Between what's seen
And what's just mine?

The web was meant
To make us free;
Instead we're tangled,
Can't you see?

Convenience
Can't be worth the bill:
No secret shared's
A secret still.

________________

This post is, in itself, a delivery of a #poetrytogo commissioned poem from today. Feel free to ask, but there's only so much I can tell you…

2016.4 Dreich

This is a word culled straight from my childhood and the Scottish side of my family (my mum, in particular, really enjoyed using it). See below the poem for a definition...


This is a day for secrets;
We're taking bets on when
The rain will whistle,
Streak views and lose distances.
This stagnant air
Is nearly unbearable,
A pall of grey, echoless;
This is a day for secrets.

This is a day for screaming,
Screened from all under this
Drum-taut lid,
Busy with nothingness.
This stagnant breath
Beggars lung capacity,
Creaks ribs like whalebone;
This is a day for screaming.

This is a day for running,
An extended stumble,
Steady as quagmires,
A gyre of possibilities.
This stagnant earth
Clutches at its dearth
With undermining hands;
This is a day for running.

dreich

driːx/

adjective

SCOTTISH

1. (especially of weather) dreary; bleak.

   "a cold, dreich early April day

The view from my office today (a lot greyer earlier)

2016.3 Feet of Grey (for @MarionLeeper)

In December, we took #PoetryToGo to Mill Road Winter Fair, and battled gale force winds trying to bring bespoke poetry to a cold, confused crowd of scurrying punters. Guy ropes are only so much good on a pavement, but we were rescued by local storyteller (and cracking poet to boot) Marion Leeper, who brought us nifty marquee feet to borrow, which she helped to fill with water and install. The only recompense she requested was a poem ("just a sillly little one!") about marquee feet. In not-very-good terzanelle form (I kept the rhyme scheme and said "bah" to iambic pentameter), here it is! Thanks, Marion! Hope it was worth waiting for! :D

Where some crave flighty
You take sturdy seriously.
Your reliability makes you mighty.

You observe your duty righteously
In expertise.
You take sturdy seriously.

Eschew the ones who tease -
It's time to show up
Inexpertise.

Tell the rest that they must grow up
To heed the call -
It's time to show up

You lift us strong and tall,
Helping our uncertain hearts
To heed the call.

You exceed the sum of parts;
Where some crave flighty,
Helping our uncertain hearts,
Your reliability makes you mighty

2016.1 Great. Full

Finally getting started! :D 

Today I am eating sunlight
Gold traces patterns of happiness
On winter-pinched skin
And I sink into my small square,
Aware of chattering silence and
The clatter of exchange
Intersecting gently
With my space.

I have been graced with blossoms,
Frothing before their time,
And gifts made out of minutes
And half-miles
And busy smiles
And the twin scents of levity
And tragedy
It's already been a busy day.

Maybe I will breach the levee.
Maybe today I'll only tread water.
Maybe ought will give way to shall,
And thank yous standing for
Unwanted apologies,
And solitary unconfinement,
Dealt a hand of sunlight
And warm food
In my favourite library.