NaPoWriMo Day 18: Glass

Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?

We’re playing twenty questions

And the boy can’t quite figure out

If glass is one of the three

Or none

One or none

Or some of all

It’s mineral

I say, without thinking

But then I do think

I think of the sea, the beach

The tiny creatures bashed to oblivion

By wild waves

Flecks of kelp and bladderwrack

Preserved forever

And I realise his confusion

Has way more merit

Than my certainty.

NaPoWriMo Day 17: Black Eyes

Crawling out of swamps

Dripping metaphors

Like similes

That sear the skin

Scream off

Siren wails and

Black eyes pierce

The bard’s heart

A bobbing larynx

Gulping at tightness

In throat.

Waiting with a lute,

Waiting to write of fear

Instead, song upon song

Of glowing white hair

And night-sky deep black eyes.

Earth Day Moot

Some great discussion and videos over at our Earth Day Moot, do pop along! Just click the event link and scroll through the posts.

https://facebook.com/events/s/pagan-fed-earth-day-online-moo/1455134451361492/?ti=icl

NaPoWriMo Day Sixteen: Drunkk

I had an idea

For words

In the middle of the night

In vino veritas

Perhaps

But definitely

In vino no memoriae.

 

 

 

(For the love of cheese someone clean up my Latin! Please!)

NaPoWriMo Day Fifteen: Lark Transmogrified

Following the NaPoWriMo prompt to write a poem inspired by music.

I wish I could write a poem

Like Williams wrote

The Lark Ascending

Those trills and furls of sheer beauty

Capturing the essence of song

The spring morn,

The warmth of the sun on my back

There’s a word for that

That fails me right now

But then the world drops away

And the violin takes over

This English composer

Capturing the otherworldly bird voice

Between lines on paper and the strings of a violin

With a sweet Eastern influence

And a nod to a poem from

Thirty-three years before

Eyes closed, on the garden step

As the magic of the bird’s melody

Becomes mundane- not less, never less

Simply a fact, a part of the world

Then the rest of the world seeps back in

And the bird takes flight

On wings of sound

The full tapestry exposed

The curtain torn back

Oh Ralph, what beauty you gave

What beauty you read, saw, heard

You took the “silver chain of sound”

And translated back

In your own sweet language.

NaPoWriMo Day Fourteen: A Pun, My Soul

Several times a day I make my husband groan

Now that one’s not a euphemism, though it could be, I own…

But he despairs of my wit, or my attempt at it

The egg-cessive ingredients in the omelette

Working it out with a pencil (he was on the loo)

What a clean cut, when the soap snaps in half,

The Claret-ty of the wine

“You Plum”, he says

“More berries, really,” I quip

And remind him that divorce is expensive.

NaPoWriMo Day Thirteen: Only in Dreams

Only in dreams do I feel

The success of nostalgia

The culmination of that homesickness

For that place I’ve never been

At least not in this life

Or with this body

Or maybe with this soul

I don’t pretend to know

How it all works.

The Germans have a word for it

They call it fernweh

The longing for something far off

Something undiscovered

Something beyond

So within these walls

And nowhere to go

Light a candle

Sing a song

Just keep searching,

I guess

NaPoWriMo Day Twelve: The Starter

I can’t stop thinking about it

Living in my kitchen

Sealed in its jar…

Or so I thought.

It crept out one night

After we’d watched too much dark sci-fi

And the bubbles were more meaningful than ever

It crept out, right through the rubber seal

I knew it wasn’t supposed to be airtight

And apparently it wasn’t

Night-thief-knife-like terror

Squeezing through

Impossible cracks

I can’t stop thinking about it

Raining upwards like an

Impossible planet

Are you flora or fauna?

Animal, mineral, or vegetable?

You are alive, alive in my kitchen

You impossible thing.

NaPoWriMo Day Eleven: Yeast

I love yeast

I love the warmth of fresh baked bread

The buttery silk of a sharp cut slice,

Just cool enough not to crumble

Under the knife

I love the bubbling demijohn

Or brew bin

Singing in the night

A watery siren

That paradoxically pulls you closer

Once silent.

I love the jar on my kitchen side

Full of power

Potential

Preening itself as I feed it daily;

Home-cultured yeast,

From practically nothing

The oldest magic.

NaPoWriMo Day Ten: Numb

I describe myself as numb

To others

Because it’s easier

Than describing

The inexplicable drama

Banality

Humdrum hurricane

Of feelings fraught with April frost

Invisible beasts

Cold sunshine

Bubble-less yeasts

Tasteless sweets

Coffee that just makes you

Sleepy

A hiccup of anxiety

Expelled like a drunk’s belch

To describe all that…

I’d rather be

just numb.