Author: A. Gouedard
NaPoWriteMo starts soon
From April 1st many poets will work hard to produce a poem a day for a month. It’s a sure-fire way of getting any sleepy cogs turning. They provide daily prompts (you don’t have to use them but they do tend to be interesting).
I am one of the poets who will be participating – so throughout April you can expect more from me than there has been in the last two years as I will post them all here
For more details see the NaPoWriMo website .
Age Gap Romance
This week there has been talk on Twitter about the age gap relationship in Jurassic Park. Laura Dern was in her twenties and Sam Neil was in his forties for the first film. The way in which age gap romances are portrayed in films is all kinds of problematic. I come to this as a person who tends to be more attracted to people who are older than me, and who is married to someone seventeen years my senior.
There is often an assumption in films that pairing older male stars with much younger women as romantic interests is fine. We don’t see as many older women in films and we certainly don’t see older women as romantic partners for men of the same age. It’s very rare indeed to see older women paired with younger men.
This kind of film pairing serves to erase older women and focus on…
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NaPoWriMo
For the first time in many years, I am not taking part in this. I am working on an important University Assignment (Creative Writing) and so I couldn’t make the poem a day commitment for 30 days. The poems I am writing at the moment can’t be shared at this time anyway.
I wish those who are doing it the best of luck and a burst of creativity.
The Osbick Bird by Edwards Gorey
a lovely little book about the meaning of true love
Little Doll
little doll
made of rags
her cotton face much loved
worn and tattered now
far beyond repair
her braided hair is faded
from the light of ninety years
her blue eyes blurred
her lips a smudge rubbed out
her end arrives with moths
her memory is loved
A Rant
Common sense and compassion
could cure the worlds ills
But greed and corruption expand in a pool
As coffers of profit are endlessly filled.
Negligent power is the curse of the earth.
Kindness and charity seem of no worth.
Arrogance kills.
This way is not human.
This way is a sin.
These gross perpetrations are not of my kin.
They live by deception and narrative spin.
Earth eaters, polluters, carrion slime
Purveyors of suffering and indolent crime,
I despise you
Detest you
Your way is not mine.
Seclusion
So quiet in this room.
Singing Sunday birds outside pierce the inner gloom.
Nothing else is heard and no-one enters here.
I sit amongst my books
and all that’s gone, once so dear,
expressing tenderness with looks,
won’t be coming back this side of heavens sleep.
What treasures should I keep?
What blessings do I lack?
I still live and breathe.
In this empty room my thoughts are coming clear.
My Brother
My brother, blasted from this world
by a blood-stained butcher
for ten days saw the light
abandoned in a world of pain.
What did he gain?
I have seen his grave,
hard fast against a wall,
sheltered by a tree
tiny bones in tangled roots.
It doesn’t bare his name.
The footsteps of his ghost
followed us to every home
angelic, sainted, untested and unknown,
a child of illusions with nothing to give or prove.
Held back by his hands how could I compete.
His weight against my back
demanding that I move.
The only way was love
and love bought with it grief
for a boy I never knew
who never knew me too.
#napowrimo Day 30 (somewhat late) ~ Last Sleep
Close your eyes
Deeply breath
Still your troubled heart
Listen to the voice
That has no words
There is a light
Arising from the West
Where quiet waves
Lap an empty shore
A sigh repeats your breathe
Above the shore
A smooth green rise
Scented with junipers,
Hyacinth, the dog rose, cedar.
A curlews cry
Stretched like string across the sky
Climbs above.
Across warm rocks
That greet your feet, cool and bare.
This is a space of welcome sleep.
There are no dreams
Nor troubles there.
All is quiet in tranquil air
The Dreaming Path 