Tag Archives: love

Day 9 – The closest I could get to Fish…

I hadn’t planned to solely use poetry collections for my Judging a Book by Its Cover phase of poetic generation, but it seems to be working okay (& I still have 4 or 5 possibles to draw from) so while it’s working, I’ll go with it.

Today is Sharon Olds’ The Unswept Room.  It is chosen for no other reason than I had an urge to write something about fish (don’t ask why/I don’t know). This was the closest I could find. It seemed to work cos the pome itself came very quickly.

tsunami

shell, coral, fishbones
— these three clues
from the sea
all that remains
of what we were
of our love that was ;
the beach house floor
where we lived
for so many years
has been swept clean ;
a tidal wave of anger
leaving only these
three enigmatic clues
which must mean
something

if only i can work out what
then perhaps, like the tide
you will return

unswept CROP

NOTE: the work of art which forms the cover are ‘details from floor mosaic The Unswept Floor’, Museo Gregoriano Profano, Vatican

Day 4 -CRIME DOESN’T PAY

Not sure what’s up with my sleeping patterns at the moment, but my body seems to think key hours of slumber are 8pm-2am. It’s been my standard for the past 3 or 4 nights. Which means I write one of these, put it aside to come back to & then fall asleep before posting it. Sigh. Hopefully things will clear up soon.

Today’s effort was going to be epicreads.com’s “19 Most Anticipated YA Books to Read in April” but I realised the titles, while lovely, were similar in tone to how Day 1 & Day 2’s poems turned out. So I went to one of my desktop folders “Book Lists” (which no doubt will be referred to again later) & pulled up The Irish Times’ “Best crime fiction of 2015” list instead.

Thus we have a dark love poem …

 

Camille

are you watching me
in the world gone by
from the way of sorrows

this is everything i never told you

you were the girl
on the train
in the spider’s web
my gun street girl

even after the fire of silver
bullets   those we left behind
even the dead with our
blessing   shut eyes
& sang their snowy
song of shadows

but black-eyed weeks
walking the tight
rope defence
our assassin’s acts   our
killing   weighs down
your drowned boy

I managed to get 19+out of 24 titles in (I challenge anyone to work pleasantville, acts of the assassins, the snow kimono, black-eyed susans & tennison seamlessly into a pome.)

NOTE: Here’s the article if you’re interested in who wrote what.

Day 1 – from the TO READ PILE (fiction room)

Today’s poem was generated by the game Title Poem. It’s pretty easy, you simply use the titles of books as the basis for your poem. Boom!

I’ve played this game before as part of NaPoWrMo 2014 I think … then I was ruthless, only allowing myself exact titles. It made for slightly stilted verse, but which was great inspiration for rewriting in the months afterwards. This time, I’m cutting a little slack & allowing myself to add words here & there, or maybe change or drop a ‘the’ from titles to allow the poem a chance to have slightly more sense/meaning.

That said, though, they are still strange dreamlike things (I’ve written two so far, one each day, I just didn’t get around to posting yesterday), which go places I wouldn’t normally —but given I only have a limited palette to draw upon, am sort of ‘forced’ to. Kinda like when rhymers choose a word just because it fits the pattern, rather than cos it’s the right word. Hopefully though, these won’t be quite so clunky as that.

In my fiction room, I have a chair to read in. Next to this, is a small bookcase topped with towering piles of books; books I’m kinda interested in reading next, if the mood takes me (it is one of about 4 such stacks around my house). For this exercise all titles are taken from that stack.

[NOTE: Roman font are words from the titles; italics are my additions.]

 

stolen

this house of sky
fades, a perfect

bluethroat morning
by silver blade cut

from the chains
of heaven

we great apes keep hush
about our scarlet necropolis

feign resilience
to the troubles

as the bone clocks
play the angel’s game

a quantum thief
steals my vintage summer

and although i am
a married man

i wish someone were waiting
for me somewhere

perhaps down by the ocean
at the end of the lane

Personifying Beauty – NOT a post about one of my pieces of poetry, but about poetry nonetheless …

Was given a card today by a wonderful woman who has been personifying beauty for me my whole life – & while she sometimes strikes out when it comes to hideously chosen shirts I am too unmotivated to shop for myself or grace under pressure when it comes to her beloved Crows … for the majority of the time she is the most generous warm loving supportive overprotective gloriously kooky woman I know … 

So. Here’s the card & the piece of poetry which I think would tingleamaze most of us, if it were possible …

 

I only wish
you could see
what I see
when I look at you

Love n light

Day 29 – from the depths of his sick bed, he clambers forth

Headaches, hot & cold flushes, sore throat. Not particularly inspired, so this is all I could muster. Sorry to be finishing with a whimper rather than a bang, but my body has spoken.

*****

yesterday

yesterday the leaves were still golden
yesterday was your smile

yesterday we sat on the steps, talking
— trying to talk

yesterday there were poppies all around us
— poppies everywhere

yesterday night came & your hair became a halo
yesterday you

_

yesterday i knew where i was going
yesterday i did not fear tomorrow

yesterday was only yesterday
— but today it feels a forever ago

*****

Season's End by Neighya

Day 28 – Stars on Speed

Been feeling very sick all day. 55 minutes ago, I dragged myself from the warmth of my bed to meet today’s obligations. Tried to keep it simple. Choose a favourite topic/common theme. 15 minutes to write (took less, just to capture these sketches). 15 minutes to edit. 15 minutes to find image (it took a fraction longer, though one image I saw, provoked poem pt vii). 15 minutes to update blog. As of writing I have 8 minutes to complete part IV (then back to warmth). So given those constraints, please understand this is a rough draft …

*****

the stars, though hidden by clouds, are still shooting

i.
once we were
the night sky
& every egg
of light was ours

now i wander
through vast
black vacuums
lost, alone

ii.
even stars would crack
if they looked too long
into your dark matter eyes

iii.
love floats
time breaks
— & all the stars
fall so quietly
no one notices

iv.
alone in a lighthouse
under the sea of stars
waiting for your return

v.
wild mind  cobweb memories
misty flowers  narrow window

a love that was  never as good
as i want to  remember it

the stars  shatter

vi.
you reminded
me of my heart
as it once was
no wonder i fell
shooting star fast
in love with you

vii.
when we reunite
the whole of heaven will glow
stars will fall like rain
till the sky is pure white

*****

starry_shooting_stars_by_kuross-d7t7o9t

Day 27 – a love poem (we haven’t had one for a while)

Just whipped this bad boy off. Today is gonna be crazy busy, so thought I should get a poem out the way, in case I run out of time later. I like love poems. Now if only I could find topics from today, instead of dredging them out of the past.

*****

night breathing

after telling each other our stories
till it was too late for me
to stop myself tumbling
you said: let’s lie beneath the stars
of course, how could i say no

you lay a blanket on the lawn

your face so fierce, so beautiful
with skin burnt by the sun
i was out in the middle of somewhere
not knowing where
not wanting to come back

i forgot to exhale

even curled up against you
i was cold but could not move
when the rain became too heavy
to endure we went inside
& lay on your bed, still talking

i am inundated

i wish to stay lost
in this place forever
want you to kiss me
but you don’t know that
or if you do, you don’t care

to love is to breathe

instead
i put your breath in my pocket
to keep for another day
because i could tell
— you were already elsewhere

*****

life_breath__by_m0thyyku

Day 16 – some music for you, as we start on the downhill run home

Not the poem I was planning to work on today (though it was on the NaPoWriMoToDoList), but a line which has been substantially altered, barrelled into my book-reading this morning insisting to be heard. So I got up, & 2 hours later …

*****

ingrained

we assemble in a darkened
room, which we proceed to fill
with the singing of hollow wood.
we prefer the hallowed. & we prefer
the new. for centuries they’ve carried
their bias beneath the veneer,
mixed with years of sweat, love
& complicated accumulated hubris.
we can’t quantify a subjective quality
like sound cry the one-eyed critics
clamouring to be heard over the still
reverberating air — nevertheless
ranking was what we are
in the dark room to do.

we understand, you don’t
always get what you pay for
but know this also love is blind
so, the Italians momentarily
lost their glamour, the hum
of their hubris, briefly dulled
but the mystique, the mythos,
the belief in the brand name,
remain, without, in any way,
diminishing the price tag.

*****

violin_by_soozn

Day 9 – this is for you David Jones, word

If only we were able to make all our decisions based on hindsight …

*****

change

i can change
i can change
i can change

the desperate lover’s litany
when they finally
realise

& all the things
they’ve been
promising

but haven’t
have built up
to the point of

too late
this really is
the end

we probably can
even if it’s usually
years too late

*****

caterpillar_by_optimalprotocol-d1cppvm

Day 4 – the theme of loss continues

I wasn’t planning to write about this topic again. However, things often bubble to the top unasked — especially when you’re distracted working on other things.

*****

we are all haunted by the presence of absence

my umbrella is too small
— to keep off the storm
my suitcase too small
—to hold all my sadness
when the crows come pecking
—i can’t scare them off

up to my eyes in water
—up to my ears in salt
wings try growing from my back
—but i refuse to let them
so i am always surrounded
—by the sound of falling feathers

*****

image

 NB- updating on the iPhone — NOT as easy as on a desktop grrr