In my teens I tried to write
But other voices squeezed my ear
In bed at night I oft times heard
The whisperings of sensuous Keats.
I thought that I should ‘modernise’
I sensed I should not be archaic,
Speaking from another time,
And so I read all the poets
Scrawling words on backroom presses,
The ones they published in black ink
That stained my stubby finger nails.
They shunned rhyme, rhythm, soundscapes
Often angry, sometimes clever.
Derivative, derivative
Was the cry that pinned me down.
So I put away all books
And went to listen, kept my silence,
As poets talked all night
Over wine and cigarettes.
I heard the need to find your voice,
The need to fall in love with words,
The need to see it as a puzzle,
Never driven by ideas.
Let sounds and music steer your way
And see the thoughts emerge
Author: A. Gouedard
Day 13 ~ Beyond My Control
I regret
I stole your heart
As children steal a secret sweet
Or pluck an apple as they pass
It was not in my control
I regret
A look, a word
I saw you fall
I did nothing then to aid you
It was not in my control
I regret
I watched your sad attempts to woo
Accepted kisses
Never turned you quite away
It was not in my control
I regret
I let you think
That I might love you
In return for loving so
Now I regret
Freeing you from my control
(inspired by Le Liaisons Dangereuses)
Day 12 ~ Shadows Triolet
there were three of us that night
the moon above us cast deep shadow
intermingling black and white
there were three of us that night
i didn’t know you then, not quite
you cut across our forward path
there were three of us that night
the moon above us cast deep shadow
Day 11 ~ Your Flowers
The flowers we dipped into the lake
Were the crowning of your wake.
We stood in silence for your sake.
As the flow bore them away,
To the places far more deep,
We made a tender, sweet bouquet
with thoughts of you that we can keep
Day 10 ~ hay(na)ku
fluke
is all
it ever is
go
and think
check it out
luck
is always
tossing them aside
chucking
charity about
won’t solve anything
time
and time
and time again
fluke
flying fluke
don’t doubt it
Day 9 ~ Sonnet from the Dead
Do they wonder where we are,
The pigeon on its perch,
The ant upon the path.
Do they wonder where we are?
Now while we are gone
We won’t disturb the song
Of the thrush upon the branch
Or the passing butterflies.
And when we are all gone
Will they miss us on the land?
How tall will grow the grass?
How wide will spread the hedge?
Will peace arrive at last
Just as the old tales said?
Day 8 ~ Vogon Nursery Rhyme
Hansel and griddle
burbank, cock-padle
Recharter of the second bank
translate, slank.
Prick Widdleton
clap slacking cat
poser on a bicycle
terrorpungus, plank.
Hack and Kill
pumbling fown
banded up in vinegar
trobolenos spouse.
Prom tumb and pack da thorner
bellicose barabas
snuffing pies in private
fuffeling, mouse.
Day 7 – FOOD AND HOUSEHOLD ITEMS TO STOCKPILE IN A PANDEMIC (Daily Mail)
Grab these items.
Let’s all stockpile like crazy.
Claw your way up the aisles folks.
You need tissues, paper towel,
cereals, grains, beans, lentils, pasta,
tinned food, fish, vegetables, fruit,
oil, spices and flavours,
dried fruit and nuts, sugar,
plenty of sugar,
life isn’t going to be sweet
after you strip the shelves bare.
Ohhh yes and
ultra-heat treated or powdered milk,
soft drink and candy,
chocolate for treats,
wine, beer, tobacco and gin!
Vitamins.
Feminine hygiene products,
family packs of toilet paper,
cleaning products.
Baby foods, nappies.
Medications!
Begin!
Get there first.
Hurry hurry
while stocks last,
which won’t be for long
now the locusts have come.
Stuff yourself sick.
Put your shoulder into it mate.
Shove that nurse out of the way.
Don’t worry yourself about her.
My grandmother kept a supply
of sugar, tinned fruit,
carnation milk, rice and porridge.
Her sideboard heaved with these contents.
They were not allowed to reduce.
A practice she learned from poverty.
You never know when a mine may collapse
Never know when your man may be crushed.
Never know when there might be a lock out.
She was being a good wife and mother.
She could never relax all her life.
She never trusted the good times to remain.
It annoyed my father.
This isn’t the same.
And this is a rant not a poem.
(The list of food and other items to grab was listed as advice in the Daily Mail on February 25th and updated on 3rd March – people were following instructions. And on April 8th this from the Daily Mail –
Don’t panic, just shop! MailOnline readers share the coronavirus ‘essentials’ they’re stockpiling from Pot Noodles and Calpol to water and beauty cream – as shops RATION hand sanitisers and prices skyrocket on eBay
Are you stockpiling coronavirus essentials? Send your pictures to stephen.matthews@mailonline.co.uk)
I smell their stink from here.
Thank you!
Some people have been following me since 2014 and still click on ‘like’ now and then so I do know you have been here – that’s very nice. Thank you!
Day 6 ~ In Earthly Paradise
in the earthly paradise
birds will flock and fly
their songs will be the only sound
to rise at break of day
the sky a pale cerulean
the air so pure and clear
we won’t be missed by anyone
we have no special worth
everything we ever made
was only for ourselves
The Dreaming Path 