Mabh Savage
Words and the world passing by; how it sings to me; how I clamour back.
NaPoWriMo Day 12: Baby Cuddles
Soft cuddle
Sleepy baby
Nuzzling into my shoulder
A vast improvement
On the head butts of earlier
The pinch punch grab
Of curiosity
Without limits
I wouldn’t change it
Each bruise a medal
From my 17 month old
But this nuzzling
Snuffling
Shuffling cuddle
This is my real reward.
The Day We Forgot What Colour Bin To Put Out
We didn’t know which bin it was
Not green nor brown nor black
The neighbours had not put theirs out
We were totally off track
We waited til the bin men came
Then watched which one they dragged
We raced the truck and gave a shout
“Please wait!” While keys were grabbed
But kindly bin men took our bin
From inside our small lawn
I’ve never seen this done before
A truly special morn.
NaPoWriMo Day 10: Books Haiku
Sometimes I panic:
Just so many books to read
And not enough time.
NaPoWriMo Day 9: Ex-Smoker
I don’t really smoke
An occasional toke
A nicotine sigh
That’s all.
NaPoWriMo Day 8: Cold Spring
Cold in Spring
It’s so cold
My fingers shake
Autocorrect is basically
Writing this poem
Frigidity has stolen
My literary talents
Such as they were
But the stars,
My gods, the stars…
NaPoWriMo Day 7: Do I Let The Cats?
Do I let the cats heal me?
Press their tiny beans
Into my sore muscles
Again and again
A much needed kneading.
Do I let their meowing
Cacaphony
Chase away the
Twittering birds of brain.
Do I let the earthquake rumble
Of purring
Ground me once more.
Do I let tickling whiskers
Suddenly tweak eyes and nose
Make me jump and smile.
Do I let two queens cuddle
One on either side
An uneasy truce
While they know I need
Attention.
Do I let the cats heal me?
Do I.
NaPoWriMo Day Six: Sun Happy
Sunshine splashing warm tea
Hot cross buns
Fresh baked bread
Dishwasher steam
Just ironed sheets
Across my face
I snuggle in it
And sigh.
Superstitious Villanelle
One for sorrow, two for joy
Taunts the lone magpie
That bird in the hand, shy and coy.
When we shy away from ladders
Cover mirrors, dodge bird droppings, chanting,
“One for sorrow, two for joy.”
While stars can be wished upon
And white feathers heaven sent, or from
That bird in the hand, shy and coy.
And salt is thrown, left, not right
Demons scrabble to count the grains:
One for sorrow, two for joy.
And owls spell doom, gloomy omens
Flying into storm wrecked windows,
No bird in the hand, shy and coy.
So step on cracks, pick up pins and tacks
Umbrellas explode indoors, but shoes: off the table;
One for sorrow, two for joy
This bird in the hand: shy and coy.
NaPoWriMo Day Four: Grey Sky Mood
When the sky is grey
Like fluffy grease
From the bottom
Of a chef’s shoe
Like a smear of ash
From a dead campfire
Like pencil shading
Abruptly halted
By the snapping of lead.
When the sky is grey
And looms above my garden wall
I sigh,
And fall, and fall, and fall.
Mabh Savage 