Napowrimo

Day 3 napowrimo ~ Sunshine

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

the morning is gloomy and overcast
the weather forecast says it won’t last
but that voice on the radio sounds kind of dead
it might only be the state of my head

the day may improve when there’s more light
I was tossing and turning in dreams all last night
I forgot to turn the clocks forward an hour
outside the window primroses and daffodils flower

a ray of light is hiding from sight
a swallow appears in high looping flight
amassed clouds take on a fine luminescence
the sun breaks through, a glorified essence

a bright golden glow bursts through the gloom
a shaft, a sunbeam breaks into my room
I’m bathed in bright sunshine the room can’t confine
I feel uplifting joy, amazing, divine

burning and turning my heart is a choir
singing with joy and celestial fire
spinning and whirling, breaking free and ecstatic
knowing my moods are often erratic

the shadows have broken and I’m still alive
the sun has arrived

Participants’ Sites

© A.Chakir 2023

Day Two ~napowrimo ~ Hermes Drift

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Hermes Drift

a miraculous form wrapped in feathers
closing the eyes of the day
opens his own eyes wide
Athena’s child
flashes through beams of moonlight
his wing curves create an all-knowing smile in the cleft of night
how swift he is in bringing death
to the thoughtless feasting of earth

a confusion of eyes look upward

through milk-merged, mist-soaked, fur-fleeting air
he falls, tearing the skin of the firmament with his sudden cry

the river floats on by
filling the veins and arteries that lead to the vastness of oceans
where Neptune’s hair shelters the young, as yet unformed, children of gentle Salacia’s sighs

the right hand of Zeus slices the wind and the rain
above the sea-salt beds
where two brothers will never be parted
bound as they are by a miracle unsurpassed
essential to every life

silver-backed fish shoal, slip-witted and swift
driven by beautiful Hermes in a trick of the gods
and mercurial wisdom switches this way and that
in an image painted with fishtails
showing us moving atoms unseen by a naked eye

And what is longing, what is hiraeth, what is yearning
but a sense of old displacements
from banks of shifting sand?
It’s the magnetic current
spawned in our deepest wishes
that persistently calls us home on elusive tides.

© A.Chakir 2023

Day One #napowrimo (the prompt was a book title)

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Practical Taxidermy

Here I am
strapped to a frame,
a never changing armature
holds me in its tight grip,
preserved in formaldehyde,
polished and preened,
displayed on a shelf
under a spotlight
my guts torn out
and burned on the fire.
My skin is so cold.

How is this me?
Where are my entrails,
my being,
my soul.

The eyes remain dead,
despite all their efforts
to keep the light twinkling in glass.
It’s not me.

Why preserve a thing so lacking in spirit?
They should have installed me
inside a badger,
a crow or a fox.

© A.Chakir 2023

NaPoWriteMo starts soon

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

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 .

About

Day 30 – Entrenched Opposition

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

You, foot soldiers,

who yell from your solid ranks

and dig moral trenches

embedding yourselves

in self-defined virtues

patting yourselves on the back,

won’t survive when the chariots come

with their innovations and rapid manoeuvres

and the flash of their wheels in the sun

if you don’t learn to adjust

and be flexible, knowing your failings,

your flailing, a horror to watch

you won’t survive this defeat

your offers of gifts won’t work

this is not a puritan country

rigidity of thought is never a blessing

if you don’t regroup or retreat

you will lose every battle

you must learn all these lesson

if you ever hope to return

Day 29 ~ Rumi, the well-named cat

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Contemplative, appreciative, grateful,

my cat Rumi, the best of our tribe,

knew how to thrive and survive.

I am quite sure of that.

As at home in a crowd

or in seclusion

nothing could phase this cat.

From the moment I saw him,

contentedly caged at the refuge, I knew

that this was a very calm chap.

When I took him with me

to my whimsical house,

where a hidden mirror

out in the garden

reflected a profusion of flowers,

Rumi gazed, with no consternation,

curled his generous tail softly about himself

and fell asleep there for hours,

but wow, and meow, he knew how to play

when the kids were around and ran wild.

Affectionate yes, never pushy,

he was the one who followed his duty

in sustaining the peace of our house.

I found my own centre

in watching him watching a trickle of water

run from drainpipe to gutter

with close attention

and the eye of a silent saint.

He showed me the importance of flow.

He had no need to know where it came from

and didn’t much care where it went.

Ah the purring of Rumi, a mantra.

Rumi was heaven sent.

Day 28 ~ Blue and White

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

my favourite colours now
are powder blue with white
and my father has painted my room
and my trike
happy to give what I like

I love the smell of fresh new paint
and windows flung open wide
it’s cosy in here but full of air
i watch the stars from my bed
the curtains never drawn at night

the summer skies are azure blue
filled with fluffy white clouds
sheep out to pastures high above
in gentle flocks they flow
wandering out of sight

in the distance beyond the trees
and the haze of several miles
is a blue and white water tower
striped, it stands, a lighthouse
far away from the sea

they are going to demolish it soon they say
I protest, I pray, I cry
surely someone will listen to me
but very soon it is gone
first lessons learned in sorrow

beauty can be destroyed
I don’t rule the world
here today, gone tomorrow

Day 27 ~ In Defence of Loki

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

He’s a trickster and a liar.
We must accept that fact.
He does look like he’s crazy,
Just as he intends.

Loki spends his time alone
Pondering that master plan
With everything in place.
Until the time is right.

He knows and can foretell
How events will go.
He sits back and watches
As his cunning plans unfold.

Slighted by his family
He manipulates their weaknesses
Which keeps him well amused
Until the time is right.

He’ll embarrass all the gods
And make them look like fools
With his flouting of their rules,
Battling his boredom,
To keep himself amused.

The gods are often cruel
And far too serious.
As they indulge their pleasures,
Loki lolls about and laughs.
Loki played his game,
Until the time was right.

But look what they did to him.
They dragged him to a cave
They bound him to the rocks
With a serpent spilling poison,
Trickling past his thirst,
Until the end of days.

He can’t have been so bad.
His wife, dearly loved him.
In vain she sought to help,
Before despairing of the task.
He must have earned her love,
on those precious dark lit nights,
when the time was right.

One day the time will come
When Asgard falls at last.
Loki won’t defend them then.
He will take revenge.
I have a sense of humour too,
And I have read the runes.

Day 26 ~ Unicorns

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

The places we have been
are pictures to us now,
postcards I imagine
posting to myself,
written with the details
of scents and sounds and words.
We climbed that ancient tower
to see across the miles.
Miracle of miracles,
we leaned against each other
walking hand in hand.
The scenes we saw before
are now as rare as unicorns.

Day 25 ~ Samsara

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Now
Now,
Now!
Now and then a silence.
Take this breath and hold it there, fill your lungs with scented air
Watch the sky, let all fears out in one sweet living sigh
Bala-laaaaa-lala-labaa-lalah-lala-la-la-lah she says softly, I shake my head but like this lack of words.
I like the lack of sense. I like the present tense of soothing sounds around me.
The ant that scurries by is red of hue. He drinks the morning dew and lifts the seeds upon his back.
He is my guide and fellow.
Sunset pink and purple merging into yellow.
So above, so below. So my heart seeks out the gold.
I have been told to follow.
I like my feet firm on the ground connecting me to earth,
To birth and signs, seasons of renewal repeating over aeons.
Samsara, samsara, singing through the meadow flowers and grasses.
Samsara.