Still writing

My monthly poetry challenge is over, but I am still trying to write poetry when the muse strikes. I will be resuming my course soon, and that is likely to lead to a hiatus here. For now – here is a shadorma inspired in part by listening to a Kate Grenville novel during my morning beach run, and my continued indignation and shame at Australia’s treatment of asylum seekers.

alien stars
pierce an unfriendly
sky, turning
blind eyes to
children’s dreams hanging like ghosts
On the moonlit wires

January 28

A sevenling

She sits silently on the step
Tendrils of smoke drift wistfully
Over the greying back garden

Numb with cold and predictability
A slow deep breath, and memories
Abandon her like motes in sunlight

confusion and fear bide their time

January 27

Inspired by a friend, today’s poem is an attempt at a tritina – a shorter version of the complex sestina.  It was very challenging to choose end words to repeat throughout the poem.

Tenderly he brushes hair from her face
Tears on his cheeks as he cradles her hand
Silent wonder, is this where they will end

A new voice and dayshift slides to an end
The nurse speaks but he can’t lift up his face
Soft on his shoulder, she settles her hand

She straightens the sheets, he gives her a hand
Footsteps fade as the round comes to an end
He heaves the chair close and lays down his face

Her face warm on his hand, he dreams the end

January 26

I have missed a few posts because of general busyness, and because Saturday’s challenge to write an erasure poem from the first chapter of Paddington Bear stumped me.  I wrote a couple of cinqkus and a shabby set of rhyming couplets, but they need more work and I although I have posted them on the Month of Poetry website, I am not including them here.

Here is a cinqku for today.

Heart and feet
Lungs exploding
The rhythm is running
Through me

January 20

This one is a simple abcedarian poem about a geocaching adventure.

Breakfast we leave the sulky
Cat to her own
Devices and
Edge our way around the
Fringes of a cemetery,
Guarding our secret
Hunt for treasure
In the
jurisdiction of the dead
Kicking up
Leaves and stones, we try not to
Miss anything
uNusual or
Pretty close to giving up the
Quest, we poke around the
Roots of an old tree and a
Severed finger shows itself,
Under leaves and inside, a tiny
Vial, and we sign at the bottom of a list of
Worldwide discoverers
Exhilarated by finding
Yellowing plastic digit, we
Zigzag our way back to the cat

Playing catch-up

I have missed a couple of days posting here, so here are a few little unrelated sketches.  A shadorma, and a couple of cinqkus – a new form for me.

Wind whipped hair
Clings to your face-paint
A man takes
a photo
In a flash the moment’s lost
As you hide your face

It swirls
And devours
Your fat fingers
Shrieking with glee – the bath

old signs
outlast the
farms that fed us
now swallowed by hungry

January 17

Today’s poetry challenge was personification. This sketch is my first attempt at rhyming for a very long time, and is a tribute of sorts to my old Ikea kitchen table.

Your little Bjursta

I’m completely wrong here, I know
Too dark, too small and too scratched
You really can’t blame me though
That the chairs you chose don’t match

Remember how happy you were
When you fitted me in your hatchback
Yes – there were others you preferred
You two-faced queen of the flat pack

But back then, I was dark and clean
And you used me to dine and play
The curries you spilt were obscene
But I didn’t mind the chardonnay

And then your children came along
with food I became encrusted
They beat and played me like a song
Hectic yes, but we adjusted

Quick fixes and the fancy meal
Laughter, tears and noisy chatter
Hosting the meaningful and real
You were all that really mattered

There she stands, I’m to be replaced
And you banish me down the stairs
Sulking in a corner, disgraced
But it’s her turn for mismatched chairs