Friday 30 April 2021

#undiscoveredcountry #napowrimo2021 #day30

Undiscovered country.

The travellers rarely return. Except rockstars with lyres.
Hermes leads you to the entrance of
Hades realms, he of many hosts.
Pay the boatman and he'll ferry you accross the Styx.
Past the women who loved unreciprocated, cry soundlessly in the gloomy myrtle groves lining the Fields of Mourning.
Kind souls go turn right to Asphodel Meadows, slightly dull but free of toil.
Left, reckless heros revel in Elysium Fields.
Far below, Tartarus place of pain and punishment. 
Rhadamanthus, Minos, Aeacus judge and sentence mortal souls direct you to your final destination.

Thursday 29 April 2021

#throughtheporthole #napowrimo2021 #day29


Through the porthole

Tippy toes to spy

through a porthole (a girl on

deck is unheard off).

Is it blasphemous to kill

a dumb brute?  Let’s explore.

 

Some one hundred and

Thirty-five chapters. A great

American novel?  You

could scrap cetology, say

“Man versus whale. Whale wins.”

Wednesday 28 April 2021

#enquiringminds #napowrimo2021 #day28


 Enquiring Minds


Why do men have nipples?
Why do boy guinea pigs have nipples?
Why doesn’t my husband know that boy guinea pigs have nipples?
Why did the vet charge my husband £30 to examine my boy guinea pig and tell my husband that boy guinea pigs have nipples?
Why did my husband confess this whole scenario to me?
Why did I tell ALL MY FRIENDS ON FACEBOOK???
Because it’s hysterical and you could not make this s**t up?


Tuesday 27 April 2021

#agnothesia #napowrimo2020 #day27

 


Agnosthesia


Betwixt and between.

Acknowledging that it’s time

to release.  Inertia,

wanting to put your burden

down, but you have carried it

 

counterbalanced for

so long.  Searching for signs that

the time is right now.

It’s always one pebble starts

the landslide.  Can’t stop it now.

Monday 26 April 2021

#wotmorekoalas #napowrimo2021 #day26


 Wot More Koalas

 

How doth the little lazy bear

Snooze through each passing hour

Munching on scented leaves

In her eucalyptus bower.

 

How skilfully she strips eat branch

How fuzzy is her hair

Just how shocked would be her stance

If informed she’s not a bear.

 

In devouring she has great skill

At napping an adept too,

Satan would be waiting still

Idle not she lives to chew.

 

In rest, oh let me lay,

That all my years be passed,

That I might repose each day

Some respite at last.

Sunday 25 April 2021

#thegreathuttitivate #napowrimo2021 #day25

The Great Hut Titivate

Brushes, undercoat
in hand.  We paint up, down, up
down.  Like an 80's
training montage. Slurp coffee,
myclonic, paint splat my boots.

Saturday 24 April 2021

#rehabilitateandrelease #napawrimo2021 #day24


Rehabilitate and release Jennys


Often called Jenny

“bear” - look fuzzy, hair-like coarse

sheep’s wool.  With two 

fused toes which they use as combs,

in eucalyptus forests.


When not sleeping, they’re

usually eating, that’s why 

Jenny’s sleep so much.

Tucked into tree nooks, may sleep

twenty two hours a day


Jennys need a lot

of space, perhaps a hundred

trees.  They are sadly 

vulnerable, their habitat

shrinks, forced to stop napping come

down from trees, at risk of predation.


Predators include 

dingoes and large owls. Also

at risk of getting

hit by cars and attacked by

dogs.  Chlamydia widespread.


Rescue volunteers

have stepped up to to care for Jennys

with the laudible

goal rehabilitating,

releasing back in the wild.


Friday 23 April 2021

#alittlepatience #NaPoWriMo2020 #day23


A little patience

There are those whom no amount of patience looks likely to improve ever...

I've been underdog.
Written off, pitied for the 
waste of potential,
crip, pram face, all limiting
labels I chose to release.

Thursday 22 April 2021

#coconutday #NaPoWriMo2021 #day22


Coconut day.

The coconut day.
A researcher used poems,
written post-ictal,
that tried to capture seizure
experiences. One guy
wrote about the day,
he spent all his money on
coconuts. Filled his rucksack.
No memory just a weight.
I've shared it with each
paid up member of the brain
cootie club. We ALL get
it. The trying to fathom
HOW exactly that happened.

Wednesday 21 April 2021

#therewasawomanturnedtoowl #NaPoWriMo2021 #day21




There was a woman turned to owl


There was a woman made of flowers.

There was a women two men would coerce.

There was a woman made to love.

There was a woman used to break a curse

There was a woman loved another.

There was a woman tempted to sin.

There was a woman and her lover.

There was a woman who would plot to kill.

There was a woman used her cunning.

There was a woman tried and failed.

There was a woman angered two magicians.

There was a woman turned to owl.



Tuesday 20 April 2021

#greenwash #NaPoWriMo2021 #day20

 


Green Wash


Nestle’s, bitter chocolate, from one hundred percent sustainable beans,

applauding ethics, a melting moment - hearts and tasty cocoa solids,

Less vocal about child labour, dangerous tools, toxic exposure.


Monday 19 April 2021

#shakespereanrant #NaPoWriMo2021 #day19


Shakespearean rant

Oh thou withered kidneyed vile worm.
There is a crime against language,
a most misused and mangled utterance in our mother tongue.
To use in the modern parlance...
"Methinks"...
When I hear it all I can conceive is
that thou are an unmuzzled beer-witted incontinent harlot.
I dunno why it just really boils my piss.

Sunday 18 April 2021

#collectingwordsandcreatingawordpool #NaPoWriMo2021 #day18


 

Collecting words and creating a wordpool
 
A line from a Levellers song.
“An old man collecting 50 beautiful words”
I had always envisioned some old timer
rock pooling with a net,
but fishing for words rather than crabs.
 
I imagined him calling over,
small children to marvel at
a particularly impressive specimen
“coddiwomple” or “nelipot”.
Their mother hovers a little anxiously.
 
It is a sad reflection,
that minds are suspicious,
but the words in the media
create distrust and division.
Tuning in instinct tells her all is well.
 
The children call her over.
They have caught a monster –
and they want her to see
a remarkable “brabble”
they contend about who caught it.
 
Pleading they ask if they can
take it home and keep it in a
wordpool in the back garden.
Mum acquiesces but they must
agree to feed and clean it out.

Smiling, she thanks the old
Man for his time and patience,
And he grins back knowing that
he has guided another generation
to a devotion to language.


Saturday 17 April 2021

#poetspagansandwomen #NaPoWriMo201 #day17

 
Poets, Pagans and Women

Poets, pagans and women
obsess about the moon
(men want to stomp over it
but that’s a different phenomenon
I think). 

I checked, the last
seven years of NaPowriMo,
each have seen me pen
poem after poem about
the sexy lunar rock.

They are not all
complimentary.  I recall
shaking my fist at her,
calling her stupid moon egg.
the poets, pagans and women agree.
 
Every full moon
we rage like lunatics,
charging water and terrestrial
rocks and ourselves, don’t let
your witch batteries run out.

Mama moon rules
our cycles, guides intentions,
witnesses our forgiveness,
applauds as we celebrate and
steals our sodding sleep.
 
          Poets, pagans and women,        
might protest too much.
We wouldn’t be without her
despite her larcenous leanings,
she gifts clarity with cosmic insomnia.

 

Friday 16 April 2021

#solstice NaPoWriMo2021 #day16

 


Solstice

Seashells washed upon the shore.
Dredged up from the ocean floor.
All the lunar energies they draw.
I surrender to the ocean's roar.

Sun’s reflection on the sea.
A disco's balls shinning symmetry.
Masculinity merges with femininity.
I balance these forces within me.

Thursday 15 April 2021

#vegressurectionist #NaPoWriMo2021 #day15


Veg Ressurectionist

I remember being read
the Ladybird book, about magic soup, that was made with a stone, 
eventually I could read it myself.

A hungry stranger comes,. 
with an empty pot and a stone.
Villagers reticent to share,
watch him just add water.

The ultimate convenience food.
Drawn by curiosity, villagers
nochalantly wander over.
It's not everyday you see a miracle.

Stranger says with a flourish.
The stone soup could use a garnish.
Quickly people rush off grabbing
a good brown onion, wilted carrot.

Herbs pulled from the verge,
end of cabage, all thrown in
as "seasonings", help the soup
reach its full flavoursome potential.

Of course there is morale
in the story, about the power of
working together and how everyone
has something to bring to the pot.

That was the theory.
The practice was watching
my mother, like a resurrectionist
bringing the near dead veg to life.

I learned how food could nuture,
soup could be a hug in mug,
be both cure and comfort.
Mum gave up peddling chicken broth.

When I went through that
awkward veggie phase
(that's lasted full 35 years).
Her leek and potato now soothes me.

Whenever I make soup.
I am reminded that I learned 
to cut veg watching her.
Mastering hand eye coordination.

More importantly listening skills
to watch my fingers
mind the knife, all of this
while balancing on a stool.

This last year, we are again making
soup together. You approve
of the soup maker a modern marvel,
how easily it manages it's alchemy.

There is always a portion, to pack up
for work, I sup a smug liquid lunch, 
My colleagues cry into their less
sovereign pot noodle.

Wednesday 14 April 2021

#whatisinaname #NaPoWriMo2021 #day 14



What is in a name

 

Luddington a name I claimed

after exchanging rings.

Anglo-Saxon roots

Luda’s farmstead

Dodda’s well

Feels old, aged, well rooted.


During the English civil war,

An apple barn in the village

of Luddington was pilfered

its ‘carefully stored; apples, looted

by light-fingered thieving troops.


I always thought, there might be

some connection with Luddites.

Though checking the etymology

It seems that Ned Ludd

was entirely made up

and I’m not sure I approve

of smashing the spinning Jenny.


Tuesday 13 April 2021

#truthbrokeout #NaPoWriMo2021 #Day13



Unexpected news…truth broke out.


Every day I read

bad news, my heart it

broke, so I choose to

stop reading print, no red top

rags or broadsheet columns scanned.

 

Every day I read

 fake news, my heart it

broke, so I choose to

stop mindless scrolling, on

social media, ignoring trolls.

 

Unexpectedly truth

broke out, usually

lies have run halfway.

around the globe before the

truth has got her pants on. 

 

Today’s prompt comes from the Instagram account of Sundress Publications, which posts a writing prompt every day, all year long. This one is short and sweet: write a poem in the form of a news article you wish would come out tomorrow.

Added a little nod to Terry Pratchett
 

Monday 12 April 2021

#futurepast #NaPoWriMo2021 #day12

 


Hygiea, if I

cut of my locks, lay them

at the foot of your statue, 

would you let me drink

from the serpent’s chalice? 

Cure me of all my ailments?

As Tempy* won’t give me a steaming

hot mug of fresh gladiatrix blood.

It's not too much to petition?

 

Slingshot through the wormhole,

dragged kicking through time and space

could I lose the meat puppet?

Download my consciousness,

into a cybernetic body.

Brain cootie free but unable to

enjoy coffee or croissants.

Not sure it's worth the trade?


*I have a friend**, Tempy who is a gladiatrix, as a side hustle, her day job is education officer in a Roman History museum.  I found out that a cure for epilepsy in antiquity was a pint of gladiator blood.

**Pfft if you can even call her a friend, you know if youth worker blood cured something that ailed her I wouldn't hesitate.

Prompt: "Past and Future.” This prompt challenges you to write a poem using at least one word/concept/idea from each of two specialty dictionaries: Lempriere’s Classical Dictionary and the Historical Dictionary of Science Fiction. A hat tip to Cathy Park Hong for a tweet that pointed me to the science fiction dictionary and to Hoa Nguyen for introducing me to the Classical Dictionary.

This was a very quick poetic noodling because it's been a busy day!  Was thinking about past and possibly future ways of controlling seizures.  Words used "Hygeia" and "Meat Puppet"


Sunday 11 April 2021

#moonmail #NaPoWriMo2021 #day11


Moon Mail

Dark Lady Moon

This evening as this cycle ends. I look to the sky, pausing to trace where you would be.  Taking a breath assimilating all that past, all that I experienced.  I rest in your darkness.  The sacred silence soothes me.  I know that in this standing still I dismiss the urge for constant rushing and business (a trauma response if ever we saw one).  

No to do list, phone is silenced, no slaw jawed, vacant eyed consumption of social media.  Just you, me, my journal and the darkness.  

It's not a lack of light but a different way of illumination.  I go in, I go deep. breathing space for shadows and exploration.

This month I offer up the these memories for your safe keeping; losing my seeds, searching high and low and then going to bed to sulk and replacing them the next day.  Scripting getting the keys for the beach hut and the next day getting the call from Hazel that we could collect the keys and squeeing loudly in B&N's and completing 365 #isolationhaikus and leaning into #reintergrationhaikus.

I celebrate making good progress with work, the podcast and with my Tuesday Tune In mediations.  

Still challenged about letting fully go from a relationship where I feel the other person behaved poorly and even though they are not present in my life there are reminders and I release them from my energy, I know I've done this again and again and again.  I really think I am reader now, the coal that I was holding hasn't really cooled significantly so maybe I will just let it down?  I know why I am frustrated and I know it really is entirely outside of my control, so I will surrender that into the cauldron of the Crone Mother for transformation.

Thank you for your patience and understanding, give me grace and compassion, to let go and move forwards.

In gratitude,
Jen 

Dearest, darling Jen

I long to read your letters, to see you grow and learn.  You do pause more frequently than you did and you know you can cosy up with me in the darkness and rest any time.  I have the balm for most ailments and it's usually rest and quiet you are progressing beautifully.

Yes, I am glad you are taking time out.  In this stillness it is easier to commune isn't it?  Glad to see you letting the sham world and it's illusions of separateness fall.  You will always be safe to explore your shadows dear heart.  I am here to hear you, your joys and sorrows and there will never be judgement, just complete acceptance of you and where you are right now.

I can't give you any insights into the seeds, maybe its fae folks playing tricks or maybe a lesson that things come and go in our lives and when something is lost maybe it wasn't meant for you.  It's okay to be disappointed when things don't go your way, but don't spend too much time hiding under a duvet, what inspired action can you take next?

Well done with your meditations and your haikus, glad your releasing that isolation, I think everyone is ready to start moving forward and you can take it steady, go at the pace that is right for you.  Did you like the yoniverse delivering in divinely perfect timing.  We were all rather impressed with that I think we heard you squeeing across the Milky Way. 

It's okay that your challenged and some hurdles do take longer to overcome than others, but I think you have learned all you can from this and you absolutely can put it down you have carried it longer than you needed, but only you know when your limbs are aching at the time is right to set it down, the Crone Mothers are happy to accept your offering to the cauldron.

Grace and compassion are your birth right, fill up your cup.  

See you next month moon child.

Saturday 10 April 2021

#leadmetoheraltar #NaPoWriMo2021 #day10

 


Lead me to her altar

 

I have an assortment of deities,

a wide-hipped and pendulous breasted goddess,

made of clay, several slim ankled fiery maidens.

 

My Ladies like to laugh, heartily and

care not for censure or appropriateness, they assume your veneration.

Approve of the panty bunting, draped across the altar.

 

Accepting smoke bundles, deathless offerings of plastic flowers,

but chide me remove those papers thin, dried out husks,

previously incarnated as daffodils.

 

Communing each day, sacrificing

self-doubt, delighting as each crack lets more divine light in.

Resonating bells heard through ear like abalone shells.

 

Not proposing forgiveness, but release,

Directing me to wholeness and embodiment,

laying my sins and trespasses against myself at her feet.

 

Through ceremony I am nourished,

leaving a bite of cake and mouthful of juice

so, none of the faithful will know hunger or thirst.

 

Oracles and journals guide me into deeper understanding.

SHE bids me use my auricles, if I have a mind to hear,

delighting as each old limiting skin is shed, and I become transformed.

Prompt: “Junk Drawer Song,” and comes to us from the poet Hoa Nguyen.

First, find a song with which you are familiar – it could be a favorite song of yours, or one that just evokes memories of your past. Listen to the song and take notes as you do, without overthinking it or worrying about your notes making sense.

Next, rifle through the objects in your junk drawer – or wherever you keep loose odds and ends that don’t have a place otherwise. (Mine contains picture-hanging wire, stamps, rubber bands, and two unfinished wooden spoons I started whittling four years ago after taking a spoon-making class). On a separate page from your song-notes page, write about the objects in the drawer, for as long as you care to.

Now, bring your two pages of notes together and write a poem that weaves together your ideas and observations from both pages.

So my song was Take me to church by Hozier and it wasn't my junk drawer but what I had around and under my altar.

Friday 9 April 2021

#totoothlist #NaPoWriMo2021 #day9


To Tooth List 🦷

* Buy new pliers
* Take wings to dry cleaners
* Steal human baby leave changeling
* Tell Brian's mum he's not flossing
* Pay in change at bank
* Polish wand
* Tell Lizzie to get her mind out of the gutter.
* Read Witch Best Buy Guide on step ladders
* Set up dating profile on PlentyMoreFae.com
* See HR to explain the unfortunate incident with Gummy Claire after she fell asleep with her head UNDER the pillow.


Thursday 8 April 2021

#shade #NaPoWriMo2021#day8


Shade

You might think
crossing over, entering
the universal consciousness
would bring you closer to
the allignment of love.
Apparently not!

I still consel young women,
not to put too much faith
in men. "We've all got one
arsehole in our knickers.
Don't rush to add another one".
Grave dirt dished.

Offering sage advice.
I think things do become
A little clearer
this side of the veil.
I can see my own truisms.
I can see my own lies 

Depression did for me.
I believed those toxic,
brain weasels. Telling me
the world was better off
without me in it.
It felt real at the time.

Bastard hindsight is 20/20.
I knew when they couldn't
close the doors of the chapel
how loved I was.
Friends, family, teapot tribe,
all filed in, but not all had seats.

I don't sleep, under a hill.
I witness rock bottoms.
I prompt phone a sponsor.
I urge find a meeting
So it's not all in vain.
As a shade I shine solace.

PROMPT: Write your own poem in the form of a monologue delivered by someone who is dead.

IMAGE CREDIT: Jenny Luddington - Kensal Green Cemetery

Wednesday 7 April 2021

#diabolicalfib #NaPoWriMo2021 #day7

Diabolical Fib

Hell
is
often
described as
other people, I 
have to ask - are your toes singeing?

I opted for the "fib" NaPoWriMo describes it's origins 

"...Our second syllabic form is much more forthright about its recent origins. Like the shadorma, the Fib is a six-line form. But now, the syllable count is based off the Fibonacci sequence of 1/1/2/3/5/8. You can link multiple Fibs together into a multi-stanza poem, or even start going backwards after your first six lines, with syllable counts of 8/5/3/2/1/1. Perhaps you remember the Fibonacci sequence from math or science class – or even from nature walks. Lots of things in the natural world hew to the sequence – like pinecones and flower petals. And now your poems can, too.

Happy writing!"

Image credit: Dean Moriarty Bhuddist Hell

Tuesday 6 April 2021

#Virtuosity #NaPoWriMo2021 #Day6


Virtuosity

I admire your

signature style, the way you

manoeuvre, deftly

expressing the authentic,

flawless masterpiece that’s you.

 

Tiny lil tanka today as it has been busy, busy, busy.

My inspiration was a line from don Miguel Ruiz “The Four Agreements”. “Every human is an artist. The dream of your life is to make beautiful art.”

Monday 5 April 2021

#scarification #NaPoWriMo2021#Day5

 


Scarification

Other seeds do not require it they

will not need nicks on their outer shell.

Important to get the process right.

It signals the seed embryo to germinate,

water absorption jump starts progression, and

coats are scarified carefully to encourage growth.

Increases the changes of

tender shoots sprouting.

Take file, of knife or nail clippers,

Touch firm deep enough to penetrate,

oh, but not too deep to damage,

be careful with slicing,

each incision needs precision.

Accuracy is what you are after,

Plant straight away.



Well today’s prompt went weird and I’m going to say a little bit scary.   I used one of the selected poems, Pennsylvania and then had open an article on scarification of seeds which I harvested for words to begin each sentence

Sunday 4 April 2021

#Liminal #NaPoWriMo2021#day4

Liminal


Lights at the end of

the tunnel, or a monster,

eyes as big as mill wheels.

Maybe a kitten in a box.

Liminal spaces hold possibilities.  


Fear exists at threshold.

Schrodinger's cat both dead and

alive until you

pull off the lid an peek,

at the horror/joy held inside.

Saturday 3 April 2021

#smokemirrorsandrainbows #NaPoWriMo2021 #day3

Smoke, mirrors and rainbows

You could say
we live in politically acrid times.
Smoke and mirrors.

Harsh on the lungs,
lips taste bitter gall
my eyes sting.

Some are wearing
masks out of respect
for the collective.

Some fear 
trespasses on civil liberties. 
All choking on something.

Rolling up sleeves
or vocally denying efficacy
Rock and hard place.

Faded window rainbows,
we scrawled for the NHS.
Seems a lifetime ago.

Prismatic refracted light
symbolically bridgind worlds
longing for polarisation to cease.

Friday 2 April 2021

#forked #NaPoWriMo2021 #day2


Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Forked

Given a simple binary choice.
I took a road I never thought I would
travel.
I had worn paths so many times, so
many wandering meander lines.
At the fork trying to trek, the
lush green, fecund track.
My quick, light steps left no groove.
So I thought that was that.
Until my star was crossed.
It's trajectory sling shot.
Forced that along that other path.
No briar roses only thorns.
Barbs that pierce
Useless tears, snot, viscously
viscous fluids.
Silently I trekked on.

Thursday 1 April 2021

#deranged #NaPoWriMo2021 #day1

Deranged, you think we'd
moved on, but still the psycho 
halloween costume,
media love to equate 
mental illness dangerous.