#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.