Day 1 – detritus/guzzlers

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April is upon me more suddenly than I’d liked & I am throughly unprepared for Na/GloPoWriMo 2023. I’m my least motivated by the thought of writing a poem a day for a month I’ve perhaps ever been, yet I’ve never once seriously considered just not doing it. So the usual things apply. I’ll endeavour to read a volume of poetry every day & write a poem referencing / inspired by some element of the work read. I’ll also check out the various prompts sites to see if I can incorporate/be inspired by them. I find these artificial constraints often produce great results & poems that wouldn’t have germinated otherwise.

I’ll also continuing my themes-based approach to Na/GloPoWriMo, which has worked incredibly well over previous seasons, I’ve decided to work on a long-daydreamed, occasionally-added-to collection/chapbook of poems with the title songs from under earth. So that’s what I’ll be doing as my primary writing task each day.

However, as I will be looking to publish these poems/said collection at some point, I won’t be posting the entirety of each poem on my blog, but a [hopefully] tantalising snippet (many journals/etc refuse to accept poems even if they’ve just been on personal Facebook pages or blogs with only 100 subscribers). As a kind of compensation (& almost respite from the darker thematic nature of sfue) I’ll also be doing a daily (what I’m currently calling poetic factoids at least until a better title presents itself) … which in itself was a prompt from NaPoWriMo.net … that is to say a poem that plays with a fun fact.

Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that plays with the idea of a “fun fact.” Your fact could actually be fun – or the whole point could be that it’s not fun. Maybe you have a favorite wacky fact already, but if not, Mental Floss’s “Amazing Fact Generator” is here to help!

*****

Excerpt from detritus — my home wards always wears away

every day the forest’s
a little thinner

& mushrooms munch
the colours of our year

Poetic Factoid #01 — guzzlers

archaeologists claim
we were imbibing beer
before the wheel’s invention

alcoholics argue
this implies drinking & driving
is an evolutionary imper-aperitif

Day 28 – white magick cleansing

A more playful poem than some this month, because after all, I do still have my sense of humour.

*****

deep cleansing the past month

week 1: a necessary exorcise of Her

my friend Charlotte convinced
that to provide clarity & clear
the psychic air around me i must
exorcise Her negative energy
from my home head & heart

together we assemble two strands
of black hair & one of henna;
a handwritten letter; & the sole gift
i ever got (a clue in itself she whispers)
a copy of Her favourite book

i must burn them at midnight
of a new moon ie tonight
i’m tired i tell her & it’s cold out
she’s long gone when i sacrifice
Her meagre possessions to flame

— it makes no difference

.

week 2: Spell for Aura and Energy Flow

disappointed but not deterred
Charlotte has lent me her
White Spells for Modern Wiccans
with multiple pages marked

turning to the first post-it note
her neat handwriting declares: this spell
is perfect for purifying one’s aura
or the energy flow between two people

things i need

bundle dry sage
“loaded” white candle
a feather (purified)
photo of each of us

having none of these items
Charlotte swiftly visits
& watches as i perform
the spell under her steely gaze

i. put candle & sage
on a silver platter
with the two photos

ii. light candle
burn sage carefully
creating smokeless smoke

iii. with the feather
sweep smoke towards
the outside of the house

— it makes no difference

.

week 3: Enchantment to ward negative energy from the home

on a waning moon day
peel & quarter an onion
form in a cross on a white plate
in front of a brown candle
light the candle, chanting

Creature of fire
Bringer of tears
Hear my desire
Banish my fears

Power of three
Set this home free
Cleanse it today
Long may it stay

travelling counterclockwise
walk through the house

saucer in left hand, candle in right
turn three times clockwise in every room

leave the onion & candle in the kitchen
until it’s completely burnt down

then throw the wax on your lawn
& bury the onion far from home

— it makes no difference

week 4: spell of my own devising

go into the garden
pluck five sprigs of fresh mint
return inside
heat some water
(from the tap is fine)

tear the leaves
from the stalks
& drop in a mug
pour hot water over
breathe in deeply

pop your patio chair
in a patch of warm
autumn sunshine
but take a rug too
cos there are clouds above

sigh loudly after sipping
open the given book
(course i didn’t burn it
i’m no monster)
lose yourself in reading

— it doesn’t fix everything
but it makes a small difference

Day 24 – glory (& well, more glory)

Thoughts which have been broiling round in my brain while driving round the Barossa these past few weeks as Vintage wraps up, have finally coalesced into a reasonable poem. (After a bit of a biological brush up on the process of leaf colour changing.)

*****

senescence

i
with the arrival of mechanical harvesters
the Valley lost much of its vivid autumnal charm.
over violent shaking of the vines strips a quarter
or more of the leaf cover & startles the remainder
into a state of shock. though improved technology
has recently reduced the trauma & restored slightly
the brilliant explosions, breathtaking feast-your-eyes
yellow-golds, gorgeous scarlets, cheekblushing-crimsons,
redhued-rubies, winedark-purples, outrageous-oranges.
but still, slowly, the old ways die.

ii
a smilier malaise is affecting the less prevalent,
but still present, deciduous population. normally
as daylight declines & the nights grow long & cold,
chlorophyll production slows as plants recycle
& ship to storage those molecules ready for next season.
the domineering chlorophyll, no longer in the ascendancy
allows the always-present but lushly masked
complex chemistry compounds called carotenoids,
yellows & oranges, to have their moment in the sun
(as it were); before the red, pink, & purple pigments
responsible for sunscreen, light protection & pest prevention
kick in to complete the slow motion fireworks display.

iii
but this year’s long dry summer means unhealthy
water-stressed trees seem to be cutting their losses
carte blanche by snap-drying then rapidly dumping
instabrown dry paperwisps; terraforming the sky
to the same dusty brown as the droughtbaked dirt
it mirrors

BONUS POEM: April 24, 2018

A place Mum & I had to visit. & somewhere I think I’d love to live.

2019 EDIT: minor tweaks to improve flow, rejambed enjambment, & various images given extra bite. All in all, at least a 50% better poem than previous incarnation.

*****

sitting on the Doc’s step

after driftwalking
half in the world
the rest in my own head ;
limbo rambling in
artfully framed narrative ;
& the much messier
more inconveniently laid
out reality ; I sit on
his fake slate step —
wanting ; wishing ; hoping
to someday leave
such a through
looking-glass legacy
for other daytrip
dreamers

Day 17 – tops (& tails)

An auspicious start to the day. Happy 95th Birthday gran.

*****

day of birth

air of gold sky of water
bow of rain leaves of blood
a promise of home

BONUS POEM: April 17, 2018

One of the highlights of the trip is seeing these little critters first hand. Pookie you’ve got a lot to answer for.

*****

the shadetails

now seen : a dozen, more?

frozen tension : quicksilver bounce : flag fluttering frenzy : the business end ; of the gymnast’s ribbon : electrified question marks

still every time : there’s a flash : a furry pulse : an extrapolated heartbeat : I experience : a silken thrill : of my own

Day 13 – sport (& fashion)

For about a decade of my life, Saturdays in Autumn & Winter meant sport: football & netball. For the first time in forever, that’s how I spent my Saturday.

*****

Autumn day

it’s as if I’ve just finished playing u/17s
& we’ve come down to watch our girlfriends
(or more likely) those we wish were —
except the ones i played with are fat & bald
& the girls i once fancied, grey & chubby

everything else — the tinkle of coins
as goals rustle metal nets; the wild calls
of support; the choc of ball on court;
insistent whistle chirps; the scent
of homemade soup; kids queuing
for lollies too excited to choose;
others sausagerolling down the mound;
stars of yesterday cunningly disguised
as grandmothers; repeated complaints
about the too cold wind — the same

the minor differences — infinitely
more stylish uniforms; better hair
cuts (only one mullet); & everywhere
smartphones plastered to every palm

sadly there’s still that one jerk
father cheering too hard; screaming
pressure pressure; always over
aggressively; threatening to blow
his gasket; as if a gold medal
is on the line

BONUS POEM: April 13, 2018

A slightly lighter toned pome, just for some variety.

*****

lemmingwear

The North Face
clearly seems
to be the current
accoatrement
of choice
for the fashion
conscious
rambler

— or it would still be
if not for the fact
my mother
recently bought
one each
for her & dad
sending stock
prices tumbling

as if from a cliff

Day 02 – twilight (& touristas)

No longwinded introduction needed tonight.

*****

twilight: autumn roll call driving home

in the 25 dusky kilometres
between work’s end
& my welcoming door
i choose the slower route
the winding back way
through hills

by so doing, i glimpse three
glitteringly furred foxes;
half a dozen twitchy roos;
two scraps of darkness
reveal themselves as bats;
a crossing echidna forces brakes;
& a stealth owl i can’t identify
skims the windscreen
in an unwise game of chicken

& although these are all
common enough creatures
for my part of the earth
every one ticks the box
inside my greengrass heart
labelled TINY THRILL

BONUS POEM: April 2, 2018

Wandering round Rome’s big Roman attractions (the Flavian Amphitheatre, Circus Maximus, Palatine Hill, the Forum) has been somewhat surreal. I loved classics since a kid; read countless histories & fictions set there, that to experience them firsthand was bliss (despite the blisters, boom, you’re welcome).

But this is the subject of a separate poem. What you get today is somewhat lighter & more whimsical 😬.

*****

Selfie Schtick

something about me
clearly implies trust
(or an ability to fake it
photographically)

for today, on top
of Palatine Hill,
i’ve been requested
to supplant
the selfie stick
almost a dozen times

i quickly developed
my own schtick
by the second request
— a trio of American
boys who laughed
at the result

which of course
meant the joke
grew with exposure
till its inevitable
demise with a Russian
(perhaps) family

who failed to see
the humour in having
one photo of my face
& two blurry ones
of their own four
(so poorly framed
owing to gross self
congratulation with
my cheekiness)
i neglected to include
the Vatican
in the background

Day 19 – poem about bed

NaPoWriMo continues despite a long day prepping for & running a production meeting. So the following formula: very tired + little creative juice = quick pome.

bed

you brought autumn into our bed
which was fine while the leaves

were still soft & smelt of earth
— now they crackle when i snore

& you are long gone though
i refuse to change the sheets

Day 18 – poem about gloamings

Today was a tiring day with a meeting in the morning, work on technical/production documents, phone calls & planning, pulling information teeth from my reluctant-to-divulge-information director, along with a printer cartridge which needed replacing at a crucial time, all meant my brain wasn’t really in a poeting frame when 8 o’clock rolled round & I realised I hadn’t written anything postable yet.

Feeling uninspired, I used an old trick — flicking through an art website I like, typing in keywords (like “firefly”, “serenity”, etcetera) until “autumn leaves” brought me to a website of a lovely French photographer who was obsessed with both the season & the “golden hour” which meant her page was full of golds, & glowing light, rich decaying reds, browns, & yellows.

So I assembled a page & a half’s worth of picture description (me describing what I see in the photo), photo titles (or parts of), & words/phrases lifted from the mostly French comments below the photos & run through google translate, which I arranged, tweaked, edited & tried to shape.

The result is this narrative through images. I know it probably needs a solid edit to help make it, make “sense” — & I’m not sure about the last line which originally I took out because it felt like it was from another pome, but I missed what was lost & so put it back — anyhoo, NaPoWriMo is about writing a pome a day, not about masterpieces. (At least that’s my excuse, & I’m sticking.)

Autumnus

your hands : overlap : your face : letting go : the place remains : imaginary : you handstand : in puddles : hair caught on blossoms

the leaves of my manuscript : waterfall over the balcony : stare at blank pages : sunbeams on my skin : my house : then the sky : pity the sun : that must go down : every night

we look at the stars : & talk til 2am : different themes : on the same thought : the same person : yearning for sunshine : in different clothes

wildness in your eyes : crackles through : everything seems to be twirling : ambiguous : diminished

i lay in the field : among flowers : asleep : my book : across my face

this is the link : to us : i am me : & you are nobody

you could : hide beside me : & i could : hide inside : maybe we just like fixation : this is the madness : melancholic nostalgia : beautiful : but full of sad memories

please don’t : wake me up : i need time to dream : everything deep : so i’ll remember forever : the days we spent : together

child of the autumn : child of the leaves : child that can never be

Day 13 – poem about heat

So it seems the NaPoWriMo moral of the story is, post Thursday mornings beforehand, not think you’ll have time at the end of the night. Thursday is my Worstday; with driving, work, late night, driving; I arrived home half an hour before midnight, tired & with a slow computer so that when it ticked over to midnight, I just thought: I’ll do it in the morning.

Not a 100% happy with this one, but the others I worked on (yester)today are i) for a competition or ii) political so it’s a very short short list (i.e., it’s this one poem). The only editing I’ve done (to)today is shorten the title.

favourite sign of autumn

you can keep your gently goldenening leafs
your sugarysweet ripening grapes & all
your other dull stereotypical signs of autumn
i’ll stick with my little bag of wheat

in the old days we warmed em in the oven
my forgetfulness costing me at least two
now the agitation of microwaves does the trick
in 180 seconds stimulating water molecules within

& so for the next three, four or more hours
it gently leaks heat into my bed, against my leg
warming against the oncoming winter
reassuring me cold can & will be overcome

more organic than an electric blanket
(& less likely to incinerate) but sadly
more lumpy than a lover at 3am when I roll
— at least, I think it is, it’s been a while

gareth roi poet boi

gareth roi's playful poetry place

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Tag Archives: autumn

Day 1 – detritus/guzzlers

Poetic Factoid #01 — guzzlers

Day 28 – white magick cleansing

Day 24 – glory (& well, more glory)

Day 17 – tops (& tails)

Day 13 – sport (& fashion)

Day 02 – twilight (& touristas)

Day 19 – poem about bed

Day 18 – poem about gloamings

Day 13 – poem about heat

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Poetic Factoid #01 — guzzlers

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