#napowrimo2022 #day20 #cocomee

“Cocomee”

We can’t keep doing this babe!

Every time I promise myself,

tonight I’ll make a different choice.

I know the definition of madness.

Repeating the same actions,

Expecting a different outcome.

Does the waitress recognise me?

Does she acknowledge my illicit struggle?

She graciously hands me a menu.

I unfold the linen napkin, like a gift,

softly place it upon my lap, fingers

lovingly trace the name of each dish.

I ponder my dilemma, what I want

what I think I think I want, crushed

by a burden of choice, I cave…

Order a damned, delicious bento box, again.

#napowrimo2022#day19 #donttrythisathome

"Don’t Try This At Home*

 

Don’t head butt showers,

it’s not smart, headaches begin,

you will feel like the

saddest girl in the world, start

striking dates from diary.

*still feeling a little meh so just a tiny Tanka.

#napowrimo2022 #day18 #sovereynetee

"Sovereynetee"

1. To smash that glass ceiling into a million, billion iddy, biddy pieces, oh, and equal pay for equal work would be great.

2. Political representation, we make up 51% of the population, visibility in corridors of power matters, and strong female leaders are needed to inspire a new generation of young women and girls.

3. Keep out of our reproductive organs and choices, a uterus doesn’t need policing, thanks. We are totally aware of their strange and mystical powers!

4. To be safe, to have rape and sexual assault taken seriously, and not to be twice victimised by the current legal system.

5. End casual everyday misogyny, no “lady” tortilla chips that are quiet, no locker room talk, no absolutely no “grabbing us by the pussy”. Catcalling, harassment, being passed over, of coffee runs, being barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen fixing you a sammich, expectations of shouldering all the emotional labour…it chip, chip, chips away at our equality, and quite frankly we're exhausted, let's embrace loudness, intersectionality, taking up space.

#napowrimo2022 #day17 #bootdogmystery

“Boot Dog”

And the mystery of the missing rocket lolly.

I was always very smol,

this is a fact recorded in poetry elsewhere,

however, when I was even smoler,

Uncle Dave had a VERY BIG dog.

A Weimaraner, I’ve had to

Run down stairs and ask my dad

the dog’s name, he was called,

according to my father “Boot Dog”.

I remember, being at my nan’s,

sitting in the living room,

on a sultry summers day,

cooling myself with a rocket ship lolly.

This hefty grey ghost,

eyed my scrumptious frozen

treat. Squeezed his not inconsiderable

frame up onto my miniscule lap.

He was gentle, but determined,

with his lengthy rough tongue,

lapped up yellow, orange and red.

My petite little legs failed as levers.

My outraged utterances unheard

70lbs of sturdy dog makes quite good

soundproofing. Mum pops her head round

Says “You ate that fast”. Boot Dog lols.

#napowrimo2022 #day16 #easterrituals

Late offering, yesterday's migraine knocked me out a little, but I think the poem is even better now after a little inspiration from Toni Bowe's Easter celebration pics. Some of the lore around Easter confuses me a bit, so here it is in a poem form. Had tried to work the ryhme scheme out reading the "Pied Beauty" example and got muddled should have just Googled it's abcabcdbcdc.

"Easter Rituals"

Easter rituals have always confused me a little.

Why is it a moveable feast, rather than a fixed date?

Jesus was the lamb of God, knew doubt and fear,

Faith a precious thing, though freshly tempered, is brittle

Spring lamb, burned flesh offerings, a shared killing fate.

Spiced buns break Lenten feast, heal the sick all year.

Sunday, a bunny brings a basket full of sweet treats.

The children are excited, hunting games are great.

Eggs painted, rolled and small faces with chocolate smears.

Simnel cake sans, marzipan Judas, for afters to eat.

Mix up of traditions here.

#NaPoWriMo2022 #Day15 #WhyGirlsDontLikeFootball

So disinterested in my topic, I couldn’t even craft my own words, so instead I have harvested a found poem from a Guardian article comments section on why girls don’t like football. Any original contributions are in square parentheses. I’ve included a link to the guardian article.

 

“Why don’t girls like football”

I couldn’t give a monkeys about football.

[a gallant male jumps into mansplain –

on queries about why women shun the beautiful game].

It's sad to get excited about 21 men

kicking an inflated pig's gut

around a couple of times a week.

Did nobody explain the offside rule when I was 3?

Footie is dominated by the Geezers.

I'd say it’s all dahn to conditioning.

Funny ole game, life, innit?

I would rather watch paint dry

than see (or play) [or write a poem about] a football match.

https://www.theguardian.com/notesandqueries/query/0,5753,-22147,00.html

#napowrimo2022 #day14 #itwouldhavetobeamusical

"It would have to be a musical"

My life couldn’t be a movie.

It would have to be a musical. 

In a proper old-fashioned theatre,

uptown, steep-stairs, velvet, gilt, opulence.

A small orchestra, to play the myriad

of rousing show tunes, you can

hear them tuning up.

You predict that you’ll be tapping your feet. 

Prior to finding your seat

You have been fleeced of you cash,

For an overpriced beverage,

a packet of Revels and a souvenir brochure. 

Before the safety curtain lifts,

you would be reminded that

photography, video and

audio recordings are prohibited.

You anticipate carefully choreographed

above the waist dancing. 

High drama, costume changes, minor peril.

Your heroine triumphs against the odds

You know you will leave lighter,

full of joy, a brief emotional outlet.

Escape from a world of war,

pestilence, poverty, and corruption. 

Musical theatre is cheaper than therapy.

Effects will last if you remember,

to sing into your hairbrush,

belting out the catchier numbers.