Shenanigans

You wouldn’t believe it but it’s true!

I’ll tell you, but don’t tell a soul

Mr Black and Miss Pike, as brazen as you like

They were seen late entering her home

 

I’ll tell you, but don’t tell a soul

Mrs Parker at 43 told me

They were seen late entering her home

They came out looking dishevelled and guilty!

 

Mrs Parker at no 43 told me

She heard it from Hugh at 22

They came out looking dishevelled and guilty!

but you must keep it between me and you

 

She heard it from Hugh at 22

Said it’s been going on a month, maybe two!

but you must keep it between me and you

You wouldn’t believe it but it’s true!

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46

I’m 46 for goodness sake!

Where did those years go?

I was 20 only yesterday

full of vigour and gusto.

I’m closer to the grave

than the cradle which is mad

I haven’t even started yet

wasted youth is pitifully sad.

I should have sailed around the world

raising Hell everyday

been a rock star filling stadiums

instead of shuffling life away.

But had I been that rock chic

I’d never have met my man

or held my babies in my arms

and heard them call me Mam.

But Bloody Hell, I’m not ready!

for wrinkles and support tights

I’ll not go gently into bingo halls

and fade into goodnight.

So crack open the Southern Comfort

add a splash of coke

there’s still life left in this old girl

before I finally croak.

Drink up and let’s be merry

raise a glass or two

to living our lives fully

before we bid adieu.

Goodnight

If the music never ends

If no-one call time 

If the sun never sets

If the clocks don’t chime

If the tides don’t ebb

If the moon doesn’t beckon

If we never say goodnight 

I will believe in heaven 

 

Day 6 of the Napowrimo challenge is to write a poem of possibilities.

Compass

Compass

 

I wandered lonely as a cloud

My compass buried beneath the earth

He was my North, my South, my East and West

 

The last grain of sand tore him from my grasp

through the hourglass out of reach

I wandered lonely as a cloud

 

From our first encounter

until our last

He was my North, my South, my East and West

 

Without him I had no left or right

No above, no below, no soul.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

 

I roamed alone over hill and stone

no destination, no meaning, no goal.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

He was my North, my South, my East and West

 

Today’s Napowrimo challenge was playing with format; write a poem that incorporates at least one of the following: (1) the villanelle form, (2) lines taken from an outside text, and/or (3) phrases that oppose each other in some way.

I chose to take lines from William Wordsworth’s “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” and WH Auden’s “Stop All The Clocks” in a villanelle poem. My opposites are wandering aimlessly and the points of a compass (slightly tenuous, perhaps!).

I’m really enjoying the stretch of the challenge and encourage everyone with a love of the written word to join in and have a go, even if you capture your poems in secret. Enjoy.

 

Together

Together

 

The chores were the same but it was different.

The bed linen was now king size.

The mugs were chosen together

Large handles to accommodate his big hands

the colours to please her.

 

The supermarket shop was initially uncomfortable

and took twice as long.

What do we like to eat? Do we like the same things?

Which toothpaste? Which Milk?

 

Hanging his laundry on the washing line

seemed intensely personal

but he smiled at her as she did so

and she held his gaze.

hand holding together

Day three of Napowrimo and the challenge was to write something that involves a story or action that unfolds over an appreciable length of time. I’ve interpreted the prompt to include a glimpse into lives which have changed, time being the catalyst. I leave the reader to imagine what story could have unfolded to lead up to this point in their lives.

For those wanting to join in the Napowrimo challenge here is the link to today’s prompt. Napowrimo Day 3

 

2.32AM

 

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2.32 !!!

Awake!! Need the loo!!!

Blast that last cup of tea!

 

 

232tea

 

 

Creep back to bedroom.

Feel my way through the gloom.

Slide into bed silently.

 

232sleep

 

 

Turn hot pillow over;

cools my neck and my shoulder.

Slip into sleep happily.

Tinned People

I enjoyed writing this one, the concept amuses me.

Napowrimo Challenge Day 26

The Prompt:

Have you ever heard someone wonder what future archaeologists, whether human or from alien civilization, will make of us? Today, I’d like to challenge you to answer that question in poetic form, exploring a particular object or place from the point of view of some far-off, future scientist? 

My Response:

Tinned People

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Little tins of people drive by;   

some are big, some are small, some long.  

At all times of the night and day,  

little tins are moving along.  

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Some are packed and chattery.

Others contain a single one.

Where are you going tinned people?  

Tell me, where did you all come from?

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From left to right, a constant stream  

of shiny black and silver cars.

What do you know? What have you seen?

Do you think there is life on Mars? 

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My questions fall on deaf tinned ears, 

as the tins keep moving on. 

Not a “hello” or “cheerio” 

From a single, solitary one.

 

Lost socks

A later post than usual; today my son turned 5 years old, so birthday cake, balloons and presents stopped Napowrimo play. Normal service will resume soon. 

It’s Day 13 and the challenging prompt for today was:

The ghazal. The form was originally developed in Arabic and Persian poetry, but has become increasingly used in English, after being popularized by poets including Agha Shahid Ali. A ghazal is formed of couplets, each of which is its own complete statement. Both lined of the first couplet end with the same phrase or end-word, and that end-word is also repeated at the end of each couplet. If you’re really feeling inspired, you can also attempt to incorporate internal rhymes and a reference to your own name in the final couplet.

My response:

Have you seen my socks?

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“Have you seen my socks?

They are not here. I need some clean socks”

“What kind of socks are you looking for;

Sports socks, work socks, “going out” socks?”

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“The black ones!”

“Is that black sports socks, black work socks or black “going out” socks?”

“Damn it woman, I’m going to be late!

The Black work socks! I need the black work socks!”

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“And did you put those lost black work socks in the wash?

Or are they the dirty, black, thrown-on-the-bathroom-floor socks?”

“I put them in the wash basket!

The ones on the bathroom floor are sports socks.”

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“Here they are, in front of your nose;

the lost black work socks that Nic had to wash and put-in-your-drawer socks.”