POEMS
A POEM A DAY FOR 30 DAYS. A CHALLENGE TO STRENGTHEN MY SKILLS AND ENHANCE MY OTHER WRITING PROJECTS.
THIS IS A JOURNEY. OFTEN ONLY SPENDING 15 MINUTES ON EACH POE. LOTS OF THESE LIKELY NEED MORE WORK. SOME DON'T ACTUALLY MAKE ANY SENSE, BUT I WANTED TO SHARE THEM ALL HERE. TO BE ABLE TO SEE WHAT WORKED AND WHAT DIDN'T. HOPEFULLY WITNESS A PROGRESSION AS THE DAYS GO BY AND TO HAVE A SOMEWHAT INTERESTING COLLECTION BY THE END OF IT.
DAY 7 - INSOMNIA - WRITTEN IN LOCKDOWN 17/03/2021
DARKNESS CLINGS TO THE SHEETS
AS THE DAY RELEASES ITS DUTIES.
THE SMOG OF ISOLATION GROWS.
YOU ARE TO BE ALONE
UNDISTURBED, UNDISTURBING.
YOU ARE TO SUBMIT TO THE END
RELINQUISH YOUR DAY
TO POWER OF NIGHT.
THERE'S A POWER IN THIS HOUR
A DIRTY SECRET
TURN OFF THE LIGHT
TURN OFF YOUR MIND
SEE WHAT IS LURKING.
YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN
BUT NIGHT CAN CARESS YOU
BRING YOU TO IT'S BEATING HEART
OR TO DESERT YOU TO THE
COLD STAB OF LONELINESS.
DAY 1 - RAIN
TEARS COME AS THE RAIN DROPS ALWAYS DO,
AND THEN CAN I FINALLY CRY?
SOON MY HEART DRIZZLES INTO A RIVER, THE RIVER INTO WAVES
AND I AM ENTANGLED WITH THESE SHOWERS.
BUT REMEMBER THE CHILD WITH WELLINGTON BOOTS ADORNED WITH
TRACTORS, OR BEARS, OR CLOWNS, OR SUNSHINE,
DANCING IN THE PUDDLES?
THE RAIN IS A GAME
AND NOT FOR PAIN.
IT'S TO DAMPEN THE FIRE,
TO SOAK INTO THE DROUGHT
OF YOUR CRACKED INTERNAL RELATIONSHIP.
THAT ONE DROP OF GOLDEN SUN
BLEEDS OUT INTO THE THIRSTY SOUL.
PEARLS OF JOY IN THE DOWNPOUR
AND THEN THE RAIN IS NO LONGER
A PLACE FOR PAIN.
DAY 3 - WINGS
WHEN I AM ASKED IF MY SUPER POWER COULD BE INVISIBILITY OR TO FLY
I CAN'T THINK WHY IT WOULD BE WORTH SHRINKING, DISAPPEARING, DISSOLVING INTO THE BACKGROUND OF SOMEONE ELSE'S REALITY.
I WANT TO GLIDE IN THE AIR
WITH THE POWER TO CARRY THE TROUBLED WORLD THROUGH THE DELICATE WHISPERS OF THE WIND.
TO LET A MIGHTY FEATHER FALL FROM MY WING, TRICKLE DOWN TO EARTH FOR A YOUNG BOY TO DISCOVER AND WITH IT THE BEAUTY OF KNOWLEDGE THAT HE IS HERE TO SHARE THE SOFTER TOUCH.
TO BE IN THE VIEW FROM THE WINDOW OF THE NEW APARTMENT OF A PAIR OF LOVERS AS THEY WATCH ME DANCE IN THE SURPRISES OF THE BREEZE AND BREATH IN HOW LUCKY THEY ARE.
WHEN I THINK OF MY SUPER POWER
I AM THE BIRD;
THE WINGS WITH WHICH TO TRAVEL,
THE LARK TO BOLDY SING,
THE PERSON TO BE SEEN.
DAY 5 - ISOLATION
DRIFTING, DANCING, IN ISOLATION
THE PLINK PLONK THROUGH GRAVITY
SEEPING INTO THE GAPS OF SOCIETY.
INTERNAL TWISTS HUG THE INNER CHILD CRYING OUT AS THE MONSTERS COME TO PLAY IP DIP DO.
REVITALISING THE ADULT OF TOMORROW'S RESPONSIBILITIES TO THE CAPITAL.
TO DRIFT IS TO LAUGH IN THE IDEA
YOU CAN FIND BLISS IN YOUR OWN DISTASTE FOR COMPANY,
EVEN IF THERE LIES THE UNCONDITIONAL LOVE OF CARTOON BEARS ON GREETING CARDS JOVIALLY COMMENTS ON. SOMETIMES THE COMPANY IS THE PRETTY LITTLE NECKLACE YOU HAVE TO WEAR THAT IS THE SLOW SILENCER IN TO DESPAIR.
BUT THE GAME IS WON IF YOU KNOW THE DANCE IN THE DRIFT OF ISOLATION IS.
DAY 2 - LIGHTS
THEY SAY YOU CAN'T POLISH A TURD
THEY SAY THAT MATERIAL THINGS WILL NOT MAKE YOU HAPPY
BUT I BELIEVE THAT THERE IS SIMPLE JOY OF A STRING OF FAIRY LIGHTS ADORNED UPON THE TURD
OR INTRODUCED INTO THE UNDIAGNOSED NEURO-DIVERGENT LIFE
OR THE LONELINESS OF A HUNGOVER SUNDAY
CAN ALL BE BRIGHTENED WITH A SIMPLE STRING OF FAIRY LIGHTS.
MOVE AWAY FROM OVERHEAD LIGHTING AND THE HARSH REALITY IT BRINGS TO YOUR PROCRASTINATION
UNDER THE TWINKLE OF THE FAIRY LIGHT
COMES THE TWINKLE OF THE EYE
AND THE RESOLUTION THAT YOU ARE DOING IT JUST RIGHT.
IT IS WITH FAIRY LIGHTS THAT CAPITALISM REALLY POPS OFF.
DAY 4 - TOUCH
MY MOTHER'S HANDS ARE HANDS OF MY HOME. THEY HAVE FED ME, BATHED ME, HELD ME TIGHT IN CRISIS, SET ME FREE WHEN IT WAS TIME TO FLEE.
HER SUN KISSED CREASES TELL A STROY OF A LIFE, GUIDING THROUGH THE VALLEYS OF THIS WORLD.
AND I WONDER WHEN MY HANDS ARE OLD, WHAT STORY WILL THEY TELL?
HOW MANY FINGERS WILL HAVE INTERTWINED BETWEEN THEM?
HOW MANY ELECTRIC CARESSES OVER EXCITING BODIES WOULD THEY FACILITATE?
WOULD THEY FOLLOW WITH THE TOUCH OF A PRECIOUS, PLUMP BABY OR MOVE ON TO GRIP THE BRIEFCASE OF SUCCESS - WOULD THEY SIGN ACTS OF LOVE AND BUILD GREAT IMPORTANT THINGS OUT OF POEMS, CONCRETE OR LEGO?
WILL MY TOUCH BE AS KIND?
WILL MY GRIP BE AS STRONG,
MY LOVE AS GREAT?
AT THE VERY LEAST,
MY FINGERS ARE CROSSED.
DAY 6 - COMMUNITY
WHAT WOULD A HUNDRED HEARTS BEATING TOGETHER SOUND LIKE?
WOULD IT BOUNCE OFF THE SKYSCRAPERS LIKE THE GLOWING SUN ON AN AUTUMN DAY?
WOULD IT GO BEYOND,
WOULD IT DROWN OUT THE BEEPING SLIDING DOORS, THE 'PLEASE MIND THE GAP BETWEEN THE TRAIN AND THE PLATFORM', OF COMMUTES OR THE 'SEE IT, SAY IT, SORT IT'.?
BUT HOW DO YOU 'SORT IT'?
IS IT HERE?
WHAT WOULD THE SOUND OF ONE SINGULAR, FIGHTING HEART BE WHEN IT FINDS IT'S WAY HERE?
WHAT SONG WOULD IT SING KNOWING IT DIDN'T HAVE TO DO IT ALONE?
WOULD IT HAVE THE SWEETNESS OF THE TART WITHOUT THE FURRY GLEAM TAINTING YOUR SMILE?
WOULD IT'S BREATH, BEAT EVER SO SLIGHTLY SLOWER, THE GAPS IN BETWEEN FOR TAKING IN THE VIEW.
WOULD IT BUILD UP STRONGER, BUILD UP GREATER THAN THE FEARS OUTSIDE?
TOGETHER ALONE, ALONE TOGETHER.
TOGETHER, TOGETHER IS BEYOND WHAT WE HOPED FOR.
TOGETHER FOREVER IS COMMUNITY.
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