Mabh Savage
Words and the world passing by; how it sings to me; how I clamour back.
I’m Eeyore
The NaPoWriMo challenge for the 14th April was to write in another persona. I had some help choosing from Paul, Dominic, Geoff and a few others but the suggestion that gripped me most was Pippa’s: Eeyore. Of course A. A. Milne already achieved the almost impossible by making a pessimistic character completely adorable (I always think of Eeyore as a forerunner to Marvin the paranoid android), so all I’m doing is building on that idea; entertainment from the soul of the depressing. Enjoy!
Only a donkey
Don’t get excited
I wouldn’t
And I’m me.
Old and grey
Too grey to play
I don’t have time
For bright and gay
Oh Piglet, oh Pooh
What shall I do with you?
Nothing. It’s never worth
The bother anyway.
Oh use that grey fluff
That got blown in your head
And see that I’d rather
Have just stayed in bed
Oh it’s boggy and sad
And gloomy; it’s true
But Eeyore is me
And you? Well, that’s you.
The Pond- for my sister on her birthday.
A day very much like
Any other bright
And carefree spring day
The wind high
Likewise the sun
Deosil across the cloud streaked sky.
We picked the safest path
Through rain soaked grass
To seek even more water
(What is wrong with us!)
The pond is a dark mirror
The sky’s forgotten twin
And we gaze in rapture
Still as the stones
Just over the brow of the hill.
A frog, and another;
We thought it too soon
There’s a newt
And some fish
Dark happy shapes
Darting in silence
As we watch, reciprocating.
I scold my sister
For getting her trousers wet
She must find me tiresome!
But this walk is a real treat
No care but what we find
No worry but what we mind
And endless treasure
We are joyous to leave behind.
Oftimes Music is the Rain
Oftimes music is the rain
Falling rhythm on the pane
Rolling drum like in my ear
Softly soothing then I hear
A pause
A change
The rhythm breaks
Has it…
Could it be…
A snatch of sun beam
One, two, three;
The cloud flows back
The beating starts
The rivulets my heart beat charts
And rain goes on
Beside my tune
We play together
Probably ’til June.
Two Hellenic Haiku
Pane parched by Helios
Chariot drags clouds away
Blackbird greets me.
Cold wind at new moon
Stepping from the crossroads
Twin torches in pale hands.
Mercy
Oh spare me from sniffles
And rouging of nose
From tissues so prickly
Though balm ones I chose
Yes save me from fever
And burning of head
The prickling face
And the shaking of bed
Deliver me from
Endless runs to the store
For paracetamol, vitamins,
Eye drops and more
Oh mercy, mercy me
Not another cold, I pray
Oh lady, oh lordi,
Save it for another day!
A Simple Stone
Clutching a pebble
Colourless and drab
Until water hits
And it springs to life
A rainbow across
Its pitted surface
Laughing at our
Ridiculous misconception.
Tiny keeper of our history
So old and so ignored
A tale in every crack
Every mark and scuff
The edge of someone’s life.
Skimmed across a lake
Each bounce is a new adventure
Each touch of the water
Bringing new life
New memories
To the guardian of time.
Shall it rest forever
Jewel like and regal
At the bottom of this lake?
Given time, I’m sure
We will meet again.
Tiny Light
Tired in the morning
Yawning from the night
Muscles cramped with fever
Strung out from the fight
Leaving bedroom empty
Step into the sun
Clothes, toothpaste and water
Down steps; one by one
Little smile is all it takes
To get me out my funk
Kick out all these crazy blues
Throw out all the junk
Where we going baby?
Going to the park
Going to the playground
Going to make a mark
See some little animals
Palms and cacti too
Hear the water flowing
Just me and little you
Hand in hand we wander
In trees and bricks and lights
Nothing makes me gladder
Than his eyes wide at these sights
Tired in the morning
Tired, happy, in the night
Smiles were forged by tiny hands
My everlasting light.
NaPoWriMo site up!
Evening all. I’ve decided to participate in NaPoWriMo. The task is to write a poem every day of April. So there are seven new scribings up on the new site now, which you can find here. Don’t forget to click “Follow” to see all the new poems first. I’ve gone with the theme of nature and the outside world; if nothing else but to encourage the sun and the spring to hurry it along! Here is today’s offering:
Meaning to Garden
I meant to garden today
The sun was bright
The compost soft
The tubs from recycling
Clean and tempting
Tasks that take time
Done in a flash
And friends been and gone
Furniture moved
So nothing left but
The desire to garden.
I meant to garden today
But fatigue pulled at my eyes
Cramped my muscles
And made me sit upon the new sofa
Laze around the house
And eventually fall asleep.
I’m sorry spring day
Though you were cold
You were shiny
And beautiful
And I truly, truly promise
That I meant to garden today.
Hawk and the Half Moon
Sharp wings tug at frigid air
Thermals crippled
By Cailleach’s touch.
Though sky is her hue
Delightful deep blue,
Her breath makes the bird
Struggle for height
Strive for flight.
He circles, frustrated,
Almost black against
The colourful morning.
He scars the misty white face
Of the half moon;
A cataract eye
Blinking behind cloud lids;
Tired of night
So drifting sleepily into day.
Music in my ears as this tableau-
Hawk framed by half moon-
Is forever sealed by the kiss
Of blessed memory.
Words copyright Mabh Savage 2013
Art Kirsten Savage 2013
Thanks sis x
Sponge
Brain like a sponge. Soaking information up. Absorbing everything. But a sponge is…leaky. Drippy. Is information trickling slowly from my ears? And on a night, when fatigued, my head feels squishy and nauseatingly malleable; is that a symptom of having a brain like a sponge? What if I absorb too much? Will I over expand and strain? No, a sponge never does that. So as more goes in, something somewhere must be coming out. That explains lost moments; wandering into rooms and forgetting why one is there; keys lost forever and cards replaced only to turn up the very next day; birthdays, names and even faces lost to oblivion. I’m sorry, dear lost memory, I can’t be held responsible; I have a brain like a sponge.
Mabh Savage 