napowrimo day 29


Today was a poem in the form of a review… et voici…


Went outside to check
The weather
This is not what I ordered,
Not for this time of year.
The temperature was far too cold,
As if I’d walked into winter.
The clouds were
Visually interesting
But far too grey for my liking.
And no sun whatsoever.
Come on – god…esses,
What’s going on?
To top it all…
Sleet AND then hail
On the way home.
This is not
How it used to be.
I remember
Sun and the blue,
And gentle warmth.
I won’t be recommending
This weather

Disappointed, Tunbridge Wells.


napowrimo day 28


day 28… how’d it go so fast… a poem about a bridge.. here it is…

I thought it would be a big one
All girders and iron and never-ending.
A bridge that joined countries
Or that swam in mists.
Unfolded, unfurled, fashioned from trees roots.
I expected a mountain climb,
Walls of rock,
A rope bridge clinging months last thread.
Danger, with missing planks
Or ones that rotted away under a foottrod.
A huge beast of a bridge,
Where you start painting
One end, only to finish and
Have to start over again.
I thought it would never end.
But when I found it,
My gut stood still.
It was a wooden footbridge
Over a tiny brook,
The width of one person,
A small inverted triangle of a bridge.
I dropped my pen and paper into
The waters,
Not stopping to see them disappear,
And then it was crossed
And there was no going back.

napowrimo day 27

today’s prompt was from “Vince Gotera. It’s the hay(na)ku). Created by the poet Eileen Tabios and named by Vince, the hay(na)ku is a variant on the haiku. A hay(na)ku consists of a three-line stanza, where the first line has one word, the second line has two words, and the third line has three words. You can write just one, or chain several together into a longer poem.”



i knew

not my name


inside, unwound

then brandished teeth

napowrimo day 26

this day’s poem – a persona poem, in another’s voice…

3Buenos Ayres sept09 042

you cannot see me

until your time is here

but i give you small deaths


to get you used to endings

these gifts

i give you freely

and if it is not your time

i will break your chariot

to stop you

i will not wash your clothes

in the ford

not today


napowrimo day 25

a little behind (as they say!)

this days was a clerihew – another form i’d never heard about until now and they are quite fun and very silly –

here is mine – a made up name –

cosmina saint clare

has a frightfully awful stare

what nobody knew

was her pupils were actually askew

napowrimo day 24

I find I am enjoying (careful now!) The way to try to craft poems more, normally I just let it splurge out a lot… so today’s task – to take a famous poem and write a satire or parody of it…

I chose “she walks in beauty” by Lord Byron link here –

I am in a small way quite proud that (after the first stanza) that I’ve managed the same scanning and mostly the same rhymes, the same end of line words in most cases too…

She walks in beauty

She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of darkened spouse brows, blackened eyes;
Hold it all in with pull up tights,
No matter how hard that she tries:
In high heels totters in her plight,
Whilst botox mouth movement denies.

Lettuce for tea, for dinner less,
A half starved look gives her such grace.
Hair extensions on every stress
Weigh heavy, strain around her face;
Where thoughts cannot bear to express
Just how much pain to reach this place.

Injections stop sweat from her brow,
Silent, stifled, so elegant,
The smiles that win, the false tan glow,
Tell of the money that’s been spent
To get her tightened down below.
All artifice this innocence.

napowrimo day 23


today – pick a card and write non-stop for 5 minutes, then fashion your poem out of the words you have… i like this kind of stuff, on the edge of consciousness, good mining is found here… i found a tarot card, the 5 of swords from a goddess deck, isis with her fierce swords at ease…

5 of swords

i do not know why attack

is always on the cards…

the sharpness of steel words,

the cut and thrust of the “t”.

will i always need

five swords to defned myself?

the weight pulls my shoulder down.

but my head is tilted to gaze out further,

out towards the birds flying free,

the red landscape

of drift and dirt and hills,

waterfalls to quench the crimson thirst,

the dark, green comfort of cypress