Launch Party.
I go to sonnets anonymous
To cure my dirty ditty habit.
To escape I had to invent a ruse,
Sell my sonnet buddy a gambit,
So I mentioned Covent Garden, opera,
I smiled mumbled something about Mozart.
He said OK but expects a dossier
On who was there, even the D'Oly Carte.
So to feed my need for fourteen
I'm boning up on Sullivan and G
Trouble is their plans are larely Byzantine,
Not subject to a simple precis.
So, Ill concoct to hide my addiction
Now give me 14 lines of fiction.
NaPoWriMo: A Most Poetic Spring
Blackpool Dead Good Poets taking on the NaPoWriMo challenge.
Monday, 30 April 2012
Day 30, Ashley
I've written a poem each day
And developed the words in my way
I'm now tired and drained
My imagination is sprained
Thank goodness tomorrow is May.
Ashley
Sunday, 29 April 2012
Day 29, Ashley
Nothing might be Better
I look at you
and think nothing
could be better.
And I wonder if
one day I'll discover
whether or not
that's true.
I look at you
and think nothing
could be better.
And I wonder if
one day I'll discover
whether or not
that's true.
Ashley
Day 29 Dementia
Dogs and drives you liked: Conservative of course,
A teacher of royals, middle England's heart.
A life spent in fairy tales, come to this.
Family pretends you're normal still,
Straws grasped, speaking as if you understood,
Closing ranks to shut out the truth of you
Stopping up their ears to rumours of screams,
Behaviour that you'd never tolerate
But cannot help, like blood or vomit.
No amount of praying can correct
A dissolution, monosyllables
Dressed in plaid, the skein of manner holding
For now. An ineffable order you create
Walking weary patterns on more time.
A teacher of royals, middle England's heart.
A life spent in fairy tales, come to this.
Family pretends you're normal still,
Straws grasped, speaking as if you understood,
Closing ranks to shut out the truth of you
Stopping up their ears to rumours of screams,
Behaviour that you'd never tolerate
But cannot help, like blood or vomit.
No amount of praying can correct
A dissolution, monosyllables
Dressed in plaid, the skein of manner holding
For now. An ineffable order you create
Walking weary patterns on more time.
Saturday, 28 April 2012
Day 28, Ashley
You crushed my heart be-
neath the heel of your stilet-
to. Haiku is dead.
neath the heel of your stilet-
to. Haiku is dead.
Ashley
Day 28, Noir
Noir.
Too
late already, time sundialled away…
You
shouldn’t have come here, not Mexico
Your
white suit makes you easy to spot
If
I can do it he can too. Come back,
Was
all he said. I don’t care about him.
You
will, he runs this town. Owns it. Owns me.
No one
owns you, didn’t you tell me that?
That’s
from a time I thought I could leave him,
Until
he’s finished with me you’re not safe.
I
should deal with it. Face your problems, ma said,
So
did you. Don’t get in any deeper, just go,
Too
many people are ghosts still walking
Like
me so do what I say before it’s
…Outside
the bar a shadow crossed the window.
Friday, 27 April 2012
Day 27, Ashley
I rub my fat thumb
across your undulating
smooth crisp pages. [sigh]
across your undulating
smooth crisp pages. [sigh]
Ashley
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