#napowrimo2023 #day30 #clearlyIhaveloved

#napowrimo2023

#day30

#clearlyIhaveloved 

Clearly, I have loved,
before I knew the chough.
I learned love from the womb,
From time nestled under my mother’s breast,
From a long line of fierce matriarchs; grandmothers, aunts, friends of my mothers.
From indulgent grandfathers, sometimes absent father,

and a dad who taught me how to love beyond blood lines.
From my brother and a moped riding Santa.
From poets, and authors classical and modern and a book of words.
From lovers, who schooled that love could be disaster, perfection and something middling. 
From a child such a complete facsimile of myself and his father, 

combined to make a great kid and a fine young man.
From circle sisters who lift me with goose and angel wings, soft and downy.
From colleagues who have supped on mostly apples and raged at crags and cracks,

 while fighting to hold on.
From deities who showed me my own butt prints in the sand.
From nature who can pour balm on almost any ache.
All the times that I have faltered in loving myself this perfectly,
tenderly they have loved me harder to sing my soul back home. 
Clearly I have loved,
before I knew the chough

#napowrimo2023 #day29 #vegancheese #sadnesssaltytearslies

 

#napowrimo2023
#day29
#vegancheese

#sadnesssaltytearslies

We long for fromage 
that tastes not of feet or puke
Not a lot to ask!

Vegan cheese made of equal

parts, sadness, salty tears, lies.

#napowrimo2023 #day28 #tortureandexecution

#napowrimo2023

#day28

#tortureandexecution

Torture and execution    

                                    ...of witches
according to the malleus malefacrum
assaults 
lynching 
and summary executions 
by burning 
by hanging 
of children
decline of
final speech 
for sleeplessness 
horrific accounts of impact on the Belvoir witches
And James I involvement in the case of Agnes Samson 
as justified and essential 
last known in England location 
atmosphere 
of play inspired by 
pressed to death 
sexual undertones 
stays of execution due to pregnancy 
and fear of the beholders 
unease over witch pricking

#napowrimo2023 #day27 #bisonofmanyblessings

 

photo credit Donovan Wright
Kent Wildlife Trust

#napowrimo2023

#day27

#bisonofmanyblessings

The bison of many blessings

at some point your mother steps

from the tree line and you are revealed

your aunts probably knew

but not your rangers

why would they expect pregnancy

when there’s not bull in sight?

proclaimed on social media 

a Christmas miracle

plausible deniability of a virgin birth

 biologically bison

 as a defence mechanism 

can conceal pregnancy

your existence a triumph

for rewilding 

welcome to the herd

a bonny bright eco-engineer 

#napowrimo2023 #day26 #ourcarol

 

#napowrimo2023

#day26

#ourcarol

"Our" Carol

Born on Christmas Eve.
"our" Carol has always been
a Christmas Carol, as
much like these festive songs,
she brings much joy.

However, Carol, is a derivative,
from Carolus, strong, 

masculine, a name of Kings.
An appropriate moniker for songs for
"the" King of Kings, but actually, 

 Carol, referenced the circle dance,
that was accompanied by singing.

While names, times, faces, places
are all liable to change,
"our" Carol, our Christmas Carol,
is usually just referred to as “mum”.

#napowrimo2023 #day25 #somehowihaveneverloved

 

#napowrimo2023

#day25

#somehowihaveneverloved

somehow, I have never loved, before I loved a chough.

I spout lyrical, but spit no feathers

(although I never knew you, before I saw you).

Yes, other corvids have caught my eye,

Ravens croaking “Nevermore”

The Morrigan who transforms from

Queen to crow, both known for stalking battlefields.

Magpies, maggot pies, counting rhymes,

One for sorrow, two for joy.

The chough was to me unknown,

long time lost to Dover’s chalk.

You’d remember if you’d seen one,

with lips 

redder than roses,

feet 

redder than martyrs blood.

Persecuted, believed to be

A fire starter, a twisted fire starter.

Surveys in hand, to herald your return,

I tread streets of Dover, pausing only in

Community venues to revel in

revealing your historical and cultural significance.

Fashion your likeness into sock puppets or

more sophisticated origami models.

#napowrimo2023 #day24 #everyonesacritic

#napowrimo2023 #day24 #everyonesacritic 

Everyone’s a critic

Boar now critiques art
snorts with disgust, “that’s not a
very good hippo”.  Then
whispers in my minds ear “Touch
Me”.  Purchase badge to hush him. 

 

#napowrimo2023 #day23 #whistlejoni

 #napowrimo2023 #day23 #whistlejoni

Whistle Joni 

1.

You scrubbed my floors,

supervised youths

painting my walls,

muralising themselves

into my structures,

We knew it was temporary,

but my replacement,

wounds you, makes you

whistle Joni Mitchell.

2.

You sat across from me,

chain smoking Mayfair lights,

we both knew a lot about

crucifixion, but we don’t

all need to be martyrs.

You wouldn’t leave,

on your own accord, but

one liberty too many, 

felt staying was consent.

3.

World fell away when

you scurried down

my banks.  The thumping of

the urban heart drowned

out by the ripples and gurgles

of my gentle pumping veins.

I hid you with my willows,

Been your anchor

image ever since.

4.

My curve has lured

you back.  I miss the teens,

you used to police, 

being cheaper than

security.  I bare witness

to the “old” young people

who missed you too.

I hear you’re plotting 

murals again.

 

#napowrimo2023 #day22 #hungerforme

 

#napowrimo2023

#day22

#hungerforme

Hunger for me

 

Fame is a fickle food,

take a seat,

gaze upon the shifting plate,

gaze upon a starlet weary,

gaze upon a battle field,

each forkful feels so arbitrary.

 

Once seated as guest,

Consume till fit to burst.

Return for seconds, alas

there are slimmer pickings.

Slender forms, cosy up with

myths about calculating cameras.

Take away and keep subtracting

project flickering, hungry ghost.

 

When the battle lost

carrion crows find scant crumbs

little flesh on bones,

starlet wraith inspected,

not making the grade

Caw cawing, wings flapping

they’re off to better eating to

feast on farmer’s plumper corn.

#napowrimo2023 #day21 #teaindeceit

 

#napowrimo2023

#day21

#teaindeceit

Tea in Deceit

 

We all tell

the odd white lie,

but you’ve made

deceit an art form.

 

Issuing fauxplogies

when tripping over

nets you wove

still masses seem unaware.

 

Cult of personality

suggests a personality

as a prerequisite.

Screech, "Fake news".

 

You spill tea, a

spectacle of martyrdom.

Links in comments

to swindle patrons.

#napowrimo2023 #day20 #makeofitwhatyouwill

 

#napowrimo2023

#day20

#makeofitwhatyouwill

Make of it what you will

Broken statuary,

should, tradition states, be buried.

We brought Demeter all the way,

From Kefalonia, wrapped in a two towels,

an wedged in one of my boots.

 

Made it home in one piece.

Alas She didn’t survive the trip,

from suitcase to bookcase, when

darling husband took a tumble.

He’s digging a hole by the pear tree.

Demeter is now nestled between,

two guinea pigs and a hamster.

I leave it to future archaeologists,

to make of it what they will.

Small rodents were sacred to the Goddess?

 

Or that Viktor was high status

buried with grave goods that might

suggest he’s from a priestly caste,

with servants to attend him in

the afterlife.  Vik would have approved.

#napowrimo2023 #day19 #riddlemethis

 

#napowrimo2023

#day19

#riddlemethis

As a child

I collected riddle books

my adult self believes

that I was fascinated

with language and how

clever words veiled meaning.

Truth revealed

I was terrified of meeting

a sphinx, cunning chimera

questioning hapless bystanders

What walks on four, two, three?

Devouring those too slow, 

unsure or plain ignorant.

I was a cultured, imaginative

child, I listened intently to story tapes

on trips to Walton-on-Naze

in Grandad’s Reliant Robin.

I crawled on four, I walked on two

I rode on three.

#napowrimo2023 #day18 #xeroxingyouzillions

 

#napowrimo2023

#day18

#xeroxingyouzillions

Always being cautious,

deftly engages foes.

Granted her impulsive

judgements knocks limitations.

 

Nightly meetings,

opportunities, quiet

reflections, soon turn

ugly, violent worrying.

 

Xeroxing you zillions.

#napowrimo2023 #day17 #goldenecho

#napowrimo2023

#day17

#goldenecho

Golden Echo

Poor Narcissus, too

alluring, melts away, leaves

just a tiny bloom.

 

#napowrimo2023 #day16 #harpiesspeech

 

#napowrimo2023
#day16

#harpiesspeech

#poetrysnorthwest

The harpies’ speech*

This is the one speech no one

would like to forget: the speech

that is avoidable.

The speech that frees women

to surrender onboard as individuals,

uneven, blind to swollen, fleshy feet.

the speech everybody forgets

because no one who has seen it

is alive and similarly, equally, can be obliviated.

I won’t listen to your revelations,

and if I won’t, I reluctantly cede you

into these skinned cat rags!

I don't enjoy it here

squatting on this island

looking grotesque but pedestrian.

with no scaled, sane persons,

I do despise your speech,

singular, nonfatal and worthless.

I won’t listen to your revelations,

to me, never to me.

Go away.  This speech

is a whisper for hurt: Hurt you!

Never me, never may I,

be exceptionally unremarkable

at no time. Thankfully

it is not an interesting speech

redundant, yet it never fails.

Today’s prompt is a poem of negation – yes (or maybe, no), we were challenged to write a poem that involves describing something in terms of what it is not, or not like. For example, if you chose a whale as the topic of your poem, you might have lines like “It does not settle down in trees at night, cooing/Nor will it fit in your hand.”

I was a little off prompt today, my friend @trinitypoet is writing her dissertation and one of the poets she is writing about is Margaret Atwood and the poem Siren Song and it got me thinking what would be you describe a siren's song in opposition?  I got Harpies' speech, so I did this to the entire poem and loved how it turned out.

Here's Margaret Atwood's original Siren Song.    

#napowrmo2023 #day15 #theyletyougrabthembythewhat

#napowrmo2023

#day15

#theyletyougrabthembythewhat

#wheretosubmit

They let you grab them by the what?

In defence they argued

that they were electing a leader,

not a school teacher.

I ponder how many Tic Tacs 

it would take to induce

any women to kiss you?

You claim magnetism,

true you attract and repulse,

though gold is a good conductor.

After you meteoric fall,

your base holds firm, I

argue with men online.

About how not all

compliments are flattering,

like cat calls or casual sexual assault.  

Today's prompt, begin by reading June Jordan’s “Notes on the Peanut.” Now, think of a person – real or imagined – who has been held out to you as an example of how to be of live, but who you have always had doubts about. Write a poem that exaggerates the supposedly admirable qualities of the person in a way that exposes your doubts.

While I'm not sure that I ever found any admirable qualitites for Trump, this is where the poem went.  I think most of the admirable qualities he is alleged to possess and pretty much "fake news".

#napowrmo2023 #day14 #thecave

 

#napowrmo2023

#day14

#thecave

#paraodypoem

The Cave

Are you sentient?

Fashioning your likeness.

Fastened with laughter and hot glue.

I try to jest about separation.

The last laugh is yours.

Today's prompt was a "challenge you to write a parody or satire based on a famous poem. It can be long or short, rhymed or not. But take a favorite (or unfavorite) poem of the past, and see if you can’t re-write it on humorous, mocking, or sharp-witted lines. You can use your poem to make fun of the original (in the vein of a parody), or turn the form and manner of the original into a vehicle for making points about something else (more of a satire – though the dividing lines get rather confused and thin at times).

I was inspired by Hilda Dollitle's poem The Pool.  It's less parody of her but more a little satricial poke at myself and how we make plans and the Gods' laugh.

Here's a link to the original The Pool.

#napowrmo2023 #day13 #stopovaryacting

 

#napowrmo2023

#day13

#stopovaryacting

#smallpoems

Stop ovary-acting

Knock knock!

Whose there?

Not my uterus, womb, cervix, fallopian tubes or ovaries.

I not sure that I got the punchline right.

But I get to blame that on menopause now.

#napowrimo2023 #day12 #dearpoetry

 

#napowrimo2023
#day12
#dearpoetry
#amouthfulofair

Dear Poetry

Most days we seem to

Manage to rustle up a

Haiku – small and sweet.

Some days we need a

bit more room to stretch out, we

embrace a Tanka.

Extra syllables help tease

out images add panache.

April, NaPoWriMo we just go mad.  Exploring form and metre, we run a gamut from sonnets to sea shanties, might even go wild with free verse.

 

#napowrimo2023
#day11
#overheardinafield
#chillsubs

Overheard in a field

 

I heard a pheasants

lusty call, I don’t have words

to reciprocate.

I solemnly reply that

I’m not a pheasant plucker!

Just a tiny Tanka today as still recovering from yesterday's seizure.

#napowrimo2023 #day10 #Whatshallwedoduringcovid

 

#napowrimo2023
#day10
#Whatshallwedoduringcovid
#poemtalk

Day 10

What shall we do during Covid

 

What shall we do during Covid?

What shall we do during Covid?

What shall we do during coved?

Each and every morning!

 

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Each and every morning!

 

Banana bread we were baking

Banana bread we were baking

Banana bread we were baking

Each and every morning!

 

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Each and every morning!

 

Sang TikTok shanties sadly sober

Sang TikTok shanties sadly sober

Sang TikTok shanties sadly sober

Each and every morning!

 

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Each and every morning!

 

Bought a puppy took him walkies

Bought a puppy took him walkies

Bought a puppy  took him walkies

Each and every morning!

 

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Each and every morning!

 

Met on Zoom dressed from the waist up

Met on Zoom dressed from the waist up

Met on Zoom dressed from the waist up

Each and every morning!

 

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Each and every morning!

 

That's what we did during covid

That's what we did during covid

That's what we did during covid

Each and every morning!

 

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Each and every morning!

 

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Way hay can we go out yet?

Each and every morning!

#napowrimo2023 #day9 #Easter #Eostre #bunnies #eggs

#napowrimo2023

#day9

#Easter

#Eostre

#bunnies

#eggs

#sonnetsunday

#ubuweb

Easter, Ishtar, Eostre, bunnies, and eggs

Compare you both to an Easter Sunday?

Two pagan friends, double the loveliness.

March’s lion has it’s welcome outstayed.

April’s lamb we spy with much covetousness.

Spring’s bashful sun has risen warmly shines,

Did Christian fathers borrow natures renewal?

Devilish mimicry the church opines.

Fierce debate each is year, rowdily fuelled

History overwhelmed twisted to fit

Who stole what, debated in online duels

Like a Passion play or long repeated skit.

Easter, Ishtar, Eostre, bunnies, and eggs

We’ll ignore the fuss, cuddle lambs instead.