Poem a Day Challenge #20 (Exist)

Today’s poem of the day is another old one I have reworked. I chose this as I had read one on a blog I follow that evoked memories of this to me. (That one is here http://reowr.wordpress.com/2013/06/18/when-galaxies-cry/ ) There also seem to be a few more with similar theme and imagery on today. The other reason is that I wanted to post something a bit more upbeat and positive than I had been putting up lately.

Exist

By Scott Bailey © 1999

If I
Cease to exist
Will my
heart and soul dissolve in the air?
If I
Breathe my last breath
Will my
Golden thoughts shine anywhere?
If I
unbind from this earth
And
Sail the sun
right out to the stars.
Will I
Find my way back?
Or
Roam forever that celestial park?

If I
Cease to exist
Will my
Precious dreams chase after my soul?
If I
breathe my last breath
Will my
Endless hopes continue to roll?
If I
Fly up from the earth
And
Spiral up to the bright dancing stars
Will I
Find my way back
Or
Make my home where galaxies are?

Hard to exist
Back to back to the hammer of flesh.
Gasping for breath
Tried escape from this strangling mesh.
Tied hard to the earth
Brought to ground by invisible hands.
If I
Find my way back
Will I
Find my house fallen in sands?

Shout to exist
Drink the sun and swallow the air!
Savour the breath
Turn the corner and take up the dare!
Stand firm on the earth
And
Walk the roads under the stars.
We’ll find our way back
While our dreams fly where galaxies are.

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #19 (On the Verge)

On the Verge

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Broken down.
Watching everyone speed by.
Rushing.
Hearing the gusts of wind.
Smelling the broken grass.
Feeling the breeze on my cheeks.
Because I that’s all I can do while I wait.

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #18 (The Coalman)

This is an old one I brushed off and reworked. This one’s for my dad.

The Coalman

By Scott Bailey © 1999

 

With his faithful tartan cap, its bobble flicking black dust into the air.
Holding in that tousled and already greying hair.
With half hundred weight of coal to deliver down the street.
With his smiling green lorry, tiny windows at his feet.
Walking up the narrow path, a smile upon his face.
Care worn lines deep with dust, crisscrossed like living lace.
Bringing warmth to many homes and our own.

Now the coal has gone but the lines remain beneath silver hair.
Hands hard and black with oil and years of toil and loyal care.
Has no wealth and all wealth one could want within his soft brick walls.
Always ready to respond to our lost and stranded calls.
Tall as a tree and as strong against every withering storm.
A mere spanner in his hands his wonders to perform.
Humble, with every reason to be mighty proud.
With pride these words should be read to all aloud.

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #17 (Revision)

Revision

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Swirling in the mists of history
Mystic figures whirl
Dark silhouettes of dangerous men
Stride along with pride.A flash of a sword, the chord of a song
the clash of a shield, the beat of a drum.
The roar of a fire in a welcome hearth.
The hearty sound of the comrades’ laugh.

The scent of a feast, the warmth of the soup.
The strength of the beams over the hall
The smoke rising up into the straw
All of this and still there’s more.

A cold wind blows, the mist rolls back,
To show the cold hard facts.

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #16 (Summer)

Summer

by Scott Bailey ©2013

Bended blade of grass
Bows in the summer twilight
A warm journey home.

Get the previous ones here

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Poem a Day Challenge #15 (Hope)

Hope

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Tired and worn out so
Going to sleep to dream of
Summer coming soon.

Get the previous ones here

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Poem a Day Challenge #14 (Carman)

Carman

By Scott Bailey © 2013

I make cars
I always have
As did my father.Prestige cars.
The most famous in the world
Made with pride.

Made with precision.
Made to last.
To shine and glide!

Every working day.
All the working hours.
My trusty hands create.

I may be steeped in habit
Tradition and old ways
But I trust in my own fate.

I support my family.
I support the plant.
And I support the land.

I pay my way my dues
while on my shoulders weighs
the burden that I support.

After all these years of toil
All my many dues.
Imagine my surprise, my boss.
I have given more than you!

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #13 (The Gulf)

The Gulf

By Scott Bailey © 2013

 

The gulf between us grows and grows.
I wonder were we ever close?
Is it a myth we tell ourselves?
To give us false kudos. 

One looks on one with envy
the other with disdain
But neither can leave the contract
for nothing is to gain? 

Still the gulf grows wider
bridges tumble down
Yet the ties are tighter
Deeper runs the frown 

Round and round this story goes
Will it ever end
The futile fixing of a problem
That will never end 

So we have to ask ourselves
For richer? For poorer?

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #12 (Mistress)

Mistress

By Scott Bailey © 2013

 

She is taken for granted by most
Loved by some, hated by others.
She gives some what they want
others are denied.
Some can’t believe their luck
Others demand too much.

She keeps alive the memory of those long gone.
Brings music from the past
Brings together worlds apart
Or breaks them down
Passes on words of love and hate
Over time and space.

The famous thank her
for everything she brings them
Other view her with jealousy
as she gives what they cannot.
She’ll save or kill her lovers
But she is here to stay.

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #11 (Normal)

Normal

By Scott Bailey © 2013

The news is not normal
We must remember that.
At home with my family, safe on the sofa.
Working nine to five to bring home the bread
Struggling with bill but food on the table
Enjoying friendships and family
Days out, nights in, peace, leisure, entertainment
Warmth, safety, security and food.

Let us remember that this is our normal
that many do not enjoy.
For them the every day, the normal is
hunger, poverty, murder and rape.

The news is not normal
but we are the exception.
What can we do in the face of desolation?

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #10 (Red)

Red

By Scott Bailey © 2013

IMG_7790

Screaming red white and blue,
Soaring in the clouds.
Thundering over the shore.
Red Arrows Roar!

Get the previous ones here

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Poem a Day Challenge #9 (Change)

Change

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Shouting into the hole that is the whole
Nothing back.
Raging against the system that is all
Nothing changed.
Staring at the box with the box.
Nothing gained.
Justifying every move you make
Not explained. 

Time to change.

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #8 (Is it Me?)

Is it Me?

By Scott Bailey © 2103

Flesh and bones and genes.
Is that me?
Shirt and tie and jeans
Is that me?
The places I have been.
Is that me?
The words of praise, the blame that cuts
Is that me?
The songs I loved, the books I have read,
The colours I paint, what I like in my bread.
Are these me? 

The friends I love and miss,
That is me
The taste of beer and chat,
That is me
The love for my wife and sons,
That is me.
The song bursting in my lungs,
That is me
The stories in my head
That is me
The place where I grew up,
where I was wed,
where one son was named, the other laid to rest

That is me

My dreams that are out of reach
That is me.

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #7 (Same)

OK have a headache now. Can’t think so I am posting this one that has been in development over the last few days. Needs more work I know. And it frivolous. Who can spot the song its a play on?

Same

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Remember this forever
For it will set you free
Listen to you mother on
How it is to be,
If you want success my child
Stay upon the path
Don’t stray into the wild.

Be the same! Be the same.
All the world – loves the same.
Stand up tall, play it straight
And you’ll never end up late.

With mortarboard and diploma
You’ll rate with the great minds
If you become a doctor you’ll win great respect
Be a great composer and get more of it yet
Don’t become a poet that they will all forget
Be the same, be the same, be the same.

Be the same, be the same,
All the world  – loves the same.
Tell it straight, tell it true,
No one will mess with you.

Bend the rules (when you can)
Make more profit for the man
A college education is a must I am sure
To give the frame of reference that you must endure
If you feel lost a job is the cure!
Be the same! Be the same! Be the same

Get the previous ones here

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Carry on..

Another attempt at collaborative fiction.

This one is just a scene – that anyone can carry on. I was thinking that anyone who contributes can then vote on the best next part and that goes forward – and then we all write the next bit and so on. (If that makes sense?)

Well it’s worth a try.

This was the thunder roll time. The heartbeat of the hunted time. The dawning of infinity.

Sweat beaded on her neckline. Her hands shook and she felt sick. It was the time of truths, of bare reality. The weight of life bore down on her, dragging her inwards yet compelling her forwards.

Time brooked no delay.

She opened……..

Poem a Day Challenge #6 (Trench)

Another attempt at haiku.

Trench

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Dancing with my wife,
last week the telegraph came:
Coughs ring round the trench.

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #5 (Footsteps)

OK – so this one is on the same theme as yesterday. In fact this was the one I started with in my head yesterday – but it morphed into number 4.  I wanted to develop it and see if it is better or not then the result I came up with yesterday. And maybe just to look at the same concept in two ways.

Footsteps

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Footsteps on the dusky beach
Holes left by those gone by
Empty.

The tide turns, creeps back in
holes become pools
shining in the sunset

Peering in beyond my reflections
the shining water
teems with life

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #4 (Soundbox)

Soundbox

By Scott Bailey © 2013

There are empty spaces
left as people move on,
of the spaces of places long gone,
of times gone by

There is a link between present and past
an energy, a potential,
strung between the memories gone
and the living yet to roll on

The link hums with the tension
and the empty spaces echo back the thrum
deep rich reverberation
layered on the past, the present, the future

Such is the music of life.

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #3 (Outside `The Daffodil and Pen’)

Outside `The Daffodil and Pen’

By Scott Bailey © 1999

I wandered lonely as a brick
That sinks and dives in stream and lake,
When all at once I was so sick,
And an awful mess I did make.
Beside the lake, beneath the trees.
Splattering my stomach in the breeze.

It must have been the bread I had
Or maybe that old Milky Way.
This puddle of sick smelt so bad
Along the margin of the bay.
Ten pints I had drunk, at a guess.
Tossing my head, I felt a mess.

The waves in my head danced, and they
Dashed my weak legs from under me.
A poet could not be so gay
As the one who stood over me.
He gazed and gazed and then in glee
Threw up and fell down next to me.

Next morn when on my couch I lay
In vacant and in pensive mood.
I swore I’d give up drink that day.
And swore some more, it was quite rude.
But soon, once more, the cider spills.
I’ll sleep again with daffodils.

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a Day Challenge #2 (Nation)

Well – so pressed for time today that I decided to do a haiku – being short!

However  – I have also had the kids tune “I’m a Jingle Jangle Scarecrow” going around and around in my head! And toothache!

So this one is born out of all that.

Nation

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Kerching! Kerchang! Pow!
Our economy picks up!
Soul still desolate.

Get the previous ones here

http://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb

Poem a day Challenge #1 (Goodnight)

Goodnight

by Scott Bailey © 2013

Goodnight. Sleep tight. Love you with all my heart.
One snuggled cosy in bed.
One in the earth.
Mother and Father
Forever hurt.

Get the previous ones here

A poem a day?

Just contemplating starting a poem a day challenge – for a year. The idea being to kick me into doing something, and to have a volume of work at the end. Which I could use to publish.

Could I do it? Could I find the time?

Let’s see

In our time

I have discovered a superb radio program.

I am often late on Thursday morning. Either taking Rachel to college or heading over to our factory to pick up things on the way in. This head meant I have been able to catch In Our Time with Melvin Bragg.
It is what the BBC do best. It covers such a range of topics that it could not be “pitched” to a generic target audience. Probably wouldn’t get made on a commercial station.

Now I have discovered that every episode made can be downloaded to be listened to at my leisure.

So from the chemical peculiarities of water to the Icelandic sagas, from meteors to Le Morte D Arthur my relaxation is sorted for quite some time.

Oh, I also discovered swype on my nexus. I was sceptical but wow it works like a dream. Will really speed up my writing and make writing fiction easier on the tablet when the need arises.

Who is Clara?

I have only managed to half watch the latest series of Doctor Who while other Chaos is going on around me. But..

I think Clara is the Doctor’s first wife/lover. The mother of his daughter, grandmother to Susan. This explains why she keeps appearing as a “nanny”. She looks after children to replace the one she has lost.

In the Episode “Hide” he gave a long speech about the two “monsters” who were actually lovers separated in time and space, calling out to each other. All while he had his arm around Clara.

And she is very Timelord like in her speech and mannerisms.Though she obviously can’t remember being a Timelord.

Also, it is well documented that the Doctor is running away from something – we do not not why – or why he left Gallifrey. And Clara keeps saying?

“Run, you clever boy.”

So I think that for some reason he was forced to run leaving behind Clara and fleeing with his granddaughter.

Could be the “revelation in the 50th anniversary episode?”

Join on..

So as promised I am posting a short story. It’s a strange little philosophical tale that can be added to by anyone.

The premise is an indeterminate number of friends in a fantastical situation and their response to it.

So to add to it simply add the response of another friend. Keep it short and simple – just a few lines. I have added four responses but even as I was writing them was aware of the myriad of other responses there could be. I am interested to see if there are others I had not thought about.

So here it is.

Lunch Hour

Started by Scott Bailey

There were some friends. And a hall. An infinite hall, with marble walls and pillars that stretched forever into the distance.

And there were tables. Row after row after row of tables. On each table was a never-ending supply of a single dish. In that hall, on those tables there could be found every dish that had ever been imagined, concocted and served up in all of human history.

With a thought you could be sitting before any dish you could think of. Or you could ask your neighbour for a recommendation and try something new. The name of the dish was enough to take you there.

It was time for the friends to eat. They entered and they took their paths through the hall. They commenced their lunch.

As they knew – it was a once only meal.

An hour later they reconvened, look each other in the eyes and assessed their time beneath the infinite arches.

The first spoke.

“I tried as many different tastes as I could. I jumped from table to table and I can honestly say that I know of no one who, could have filled their time here with as many different flavours as I. Yet. Now I am here –  wonder why? I stand here before you proudly stating the quantity of meals I have partaken off – yet I wonder why does that matter? Not one was complete. Have I missed the joy of a meal.”

He hung his head, deep in thought and regret. But second friend spoke.

“You make me wonder. What taste did I miss? I did not try many different meals, For quite soon I found one that I really enjoyed. I sat down and savoured the taste. People around me did the same and we discussed the meal and more besides. I do not regret that – no it was heartwarming – but I wonder at the tastes I missed. Was there a better meal still that I could have savoured with more relish?”

The third friend looked haunted.

“I did not eat. I wanted to try everything but I realised this was not possible, that it was a dream that could only fail. Yet I felt that to just sit down and eat was an insult to the great hospitality and variety that had been laid before us. I fell in with a group of other like-minded people and we were determined to resolve this dilemma with the gifts of reason we have been bestowed with. I have been a fool.”

“You are all fools!” said a fourth friend.

“I knew the way – I understood the correct combination of meals that would allow perfection! I tried to tell you but you would not listen! So many people did not listen! Fools! But there were some and we understand that we have eaten correctly and that we will be rewarded for that. I pity you – you have wasted your lunch hour.”

From Liz Bryant (via Facebook)

“I knew that every choice I could possibly imagine was available to me if only I could be sure to think of my heart’s desire but I couldn’t trust myself to be sure my imagination would conjure my one enduring favourite dish so I watched everyone else and enjoyed observing them choose and enjoy and I admired those who took time to consider, enjoyed and left happy that they had made the right choice”

The Gunner’s Dream

Shared The Gunner’s dream on Facebook tonight – prompted by a post from the Pink Floyd page. It’s a song I can always come back to – I always wanted to write down the lyrics in calligraphy on the wall as decoration, but I am no visual artists and it wouldn’t come out as expected.

And that’s the reason I think. I always wanted to be able to draw or paint but I think my problem is that I have a real vivid image in my mind what I want it to look like. It never does. I suspect tough that’s not how artists work, they instead convey an impression of what they want to get across. A representation.

I am not sure why I have an issue with this as that’s essentially what you do when writing – though looking back at my early stuff I can see that I was trying too hard to write exactly what I was seeing in my mind. Now I can let go and trust the reader to fill in the details.

Just can’t do the same with visual arts.

Plus have zero talent.

As you can probably tell – not much took place today out of the ordinary routine.

Been reading the Frank Herbert book I was sent – I need to finish that as a review is expected. It’s very good just very long and involved.