14 - Count Down

#NaPoWriMo Day 14 and today I’ve written an Abracadabra inspired by the Random Line Generator. The words I was given were clean, taunt, inspect, secret, guard, thick, brush, and vapour, and it’s quite the challenge to fit them into such an already curtailed form. Judge for yourself how you think I did!

Remember that, if you’re a subscriber to my Patreon, you can hear a recording of this piece (and the thirteen preceding it) there. The link to the relevant post is here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/count-down-155651088

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“Is it clean yet?” the old man taunts. “Come on, boy!
“He wants to see your face in it, come night.”
The young lad shakes his head and brushes
thick detritus of an age free.
Intent to pass inspection,
he fails to keep his guard.
The secret hour strikes;
he sees nothing
as vapours
claim his
life

Original mirror image obtained from Wikipedia, then thoroughly messed with by me

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If you’d like to write your own Abracadabra, why not make use of my handy-dandy shareware spreadsheet that can help get you started? https://bit.ly/poemrep

2020.11 Along for the Ride

Written at the @allographica virtual write-in this afternoon, using the @napowrimo prompt for today and the random line generator from the Language is a Virus site (words: suspect concede encode chomp store ride approve belong, of which I didn't manage all of them – in my defence, it’s a pretty short form!).

Our fate appears to be encoded
I suspect we will have to concede
Our store of tactics all out-moded
Our fate appears to be encoded
Approval rating all eroded
It won’t be long until we plead:
Our fate appears to be encoded
I, suspect, will have to concede

Image from Martin Lubeck’s website

2019.4 Ghost Tour

“Will you cover for me?” I’m helpless, delving into a set of well-worn expressions, shunning the stutter he beckons, projecting: Yeah, I reckon. “Listen,” he says, “I owe you one.” At this point, more like twenty, a reckoning that’s chasing propriety into an early grave. A new voice: “Step lively,” says Greg, head a conspiracy tilt past the fire hatch and we scurry, him stubbing, me shrugging, Greg’s gaze a spinning speculation I nudge from him. “Madame’s on the march,” he confides. I sigh. “No closer to the prize?” My turn to roll my eyes, grab regulation headgear, unprop the door while trawling for witticisms. Zilch. “There’s always next time.” “Sure, love. Sure.” We watch as he darts ahead.

Tip-toeing upstage,
We are mismatched murderers
Longing for a break.


Over to our old friend the random line generator for inspiration for this not-very-strict haibun, Words generated were: cover, march, listen, tip, upstage, point, chase, ghosts.

2017.8 - Hedging

There is a throb of chorus, deep and lovely,
Summoning langour like a drug.
A flick of the wrist and your knucklebone heart
Tugged us here.

Countless tiny blooms, beyond my lexicon,
Drift like snow, gentling the root-hump,
Switchback glade,
As the bees pay court.

Your eyes, first wide with pride,
Now narrow in lazy pleasure,
All heavy with satisfaction.
“I told you,” they say.

You let my wrist fall as we cleared the glade,
Running to the centre to whirl,
Your hair spun sugar for a moment
A monument defying gravity.

In the infinite softness
Beyond the straight lines of the rose gardens,
The mentored, fencelike foliage,
We rock gently, murmurs shattered into sticky shards

We suck honey from petals’ curve,
Lick moments from the earthscent air
Decorate ourselves with grass stains,
Awaken tenderness with texture.

And as you slumber, drifting like the wildflowers.
I weave along the twilight edges
Too raw for sleep, restless with excess
Haunting the margins step by sacred step.

I know now I will always feel the weight of you
In the scent of summer leafmould
And there will always be a corner of my world
Untouched by blade, where the nameless blossoms froth.


When in doubt, I summon up inspiration from the Random Line Generator. The trick is to at least reference, if not outright use, all of them. I don’t think this is finished, but I was glad to be able to crack something out with an incipient migraine at the end of a git of a week and after a late show.

And, if you were wondering, the words I got given were “langour wildflower snow sugar flower twilight ghosts mildew honey” So you can see there was a bit of cheating... :)