Trees on the horizon
Fingers accusing the sunset
Shimmering waters deep
The soul of man divided
A fear that never speaks
Darkness encroaches deep
Thunder in the morning
Lightning cracks on high
Rolling sound so deep
Division rends asunder
Lands that had known peace
Now their daughters sleep
There once was a grouchy poet
If happy, he sure didn’t show it.
A dragon was curled
Around his whole world
Fire above and fire below it.
This looks very interesting, a retro – modern device that allows you to write distraction free on a good old fashioned keyboard.
I want one.
Having finished National Poetry Writing Month and it being a bank holiday weekend I decided to take a few days off from blogging. And boy does it show. Stats have dropped to zilch, nada, a big fat zero.
But hey – it’s not about the stats – however much I obsess over them. Honest. I am doing this to try to stretch my writing muscles, build my confidence and build a join a community of friendly like-minded people. I have certainly done that.
But I am not taking on any more daily challenges. I will still try to post but on a less regular frequency now. And it will be more of a mix of writing and journal entries hopefully.
I am going to spend some more time on the relaunch of my book and the launch of my second (very different) one. So watch this space.
But talking of journalling and the bank holiday weekend.
We took the opportunity to get out and about this weekend. We left chores and work and all other plans to one side and had some quality family time. It had to be done on a tight budget but we had a good time. We spent one day in a park, trying to find and photograph as many wild birds and flowers as we could. Didn’t really see many wild birds. Saw quite a few flowers (have no idea what any of them are) and on the trip back we also saw a mangy looking fox roaming the town in broad daylight! The park also had a play ground with a giant slide and a secret tunnel. They boys were in their element – as well as many fallen branches and sticks as could be carried.
Our eldest is obsessed with Minecraft at the moment and decided he was going to collect enough wood to make himself a real life crafting table.
The next day we managed to fond cheap tickets to go and see Home – which I can really recommend for younger kids. They loved it. We then spent the rest of the day down the sea front. The day after was also spent at a fair by the sea.
So it’s been an outside in the sun and wind weekend, and I think it has done us good.
Here’s a few shots from the weekend.
I’ll end as I began..
There once was a grouchy old poet
Who desperately tried not to blow it
So he strived hard to be
Like the tall world tree
Wisdom above and below it
#NaPoWriMo
#Poetry
Tradition is the echo of oppression
The long shadow of old power
The dark night of the poor
A back drop for wealth’s fireworks
Yet its the poor who cling
Fast to slow-moving tradition
As the controllers far above
Play their fears like violin strings
#NaPoWriMo
#Poetry
Broken shell
Evidence of new life or life cut short
A new hungry mouth
Or a hunters hunger sated
Either way
Life is given
Evidence found
In our humble garden
#NaPoWriMo
#Poetry
A black hole is not
As dark as my mood today
So I rage silent
#NaPoWriMo
Actually on prompt today with a Clerihew
Sir Terry Pratchett
His humour – well no one could match it
Now his pen is laid down
Death’s grin now a frown
#NaPoWriMo
#TerryPratchett
#Poetry
Special, general
Einstein’s relativity
Beauty and balance
#NaPoWriMo
Amber brown bristles
Fletched true
Sighted
On the smooth straight shaft
Knocked
Creak of wood
And leather
Tense flesh
Strength of arm
Years
Of hard work
Hard life
Peaked
In tense flesh
Aimed
Deep russet red
Undulating tight
Over perfect form
Moving with surety
Strength and grace
Slender neck
Proud eyes
High points
Antlers spectacular
Slow high-speed
Flight
True
Through high trunks
Ancient towers
Sturdy and rough
Flicking leaves
Pungent smell
Of spilt sap
Over lazy ferns
Struck
Sunk deep
In perfect flesh
Deep russet red
Covered in bright
Fresh crimson
Hunter
Has hunted
Dusk
Deep red sky
Flecked with sparks
Orange
Embers fly
On aroma
Of roasted flesh
Venison
Consumed
Hunter sated
For now
Started awake
Cold
Stone and straw
Shit and piss
And chains
A dream
Of a memory
Despite all
A happy dream
Amidst horror
And darkness
Weakness
Flesh wasted
In forgotten depths
Waiting
For nothing
Time drips
Away
Into nothing
Sodden straw
Stronger arms
Clad in chain
Dragged from darkness
Down cold
Stone corridors
Into light
Hammering eyes
Screams and shouts
Hammering ears
Then rope
And wood
Strong scent
Of wet rope
Rough against
Weak neck
And wood
Creaking underfoot
Screams and jeers
A clunk
Freedom from weight
From the wait
Exhilaration
Then……
#NaPoWriMo
I find myself
Reading a book
A real book
A technical book for sure
But real paper
Real leaves
Turned with relish
With real fingers
Well
Hello old friend
#NaPoWriMo
A hole in the ground
Still black water reflecting
Meteors above
#NaPoWriMo
Tales woven over the air
Tales woven in print
Tell you where and how to belong
And to stay there
This is your tribe
This is your way
Here’s your beliefs
The way to behave
But digital lines
Weave different tales
Social arising
Communities felt
So ancient tellers
Beware of the light
Too fast to contain
With old fashioned lies
#NaPoWriMo
Sunlight from the past
From where coldness rules supreme
The mighty fallen
#NaPoWriMo
Winter is coming
Snow sweeps down from the cold north
Followed by the dead
#NaPoWriMo
Height, falling, swooping
Skylarks catching air, rainfall
Drowns the fleeing mouse
#NaPoWriMo
Off prompt again today – In response to some headlines
Mare Nostrum
We don’t support it
They said
So it is gone
In other words
Let them die
Stopping people dying
Might encourage them to live
And after all
What are they
But the victims of war
And rape and torture
Who wants them cluttering up the place?
A fitting epitaph
Perhaps
For the West
#NaPoWriMo
Off prompt again today – this one came to me last night while filling out adoption paperwork
From butterflies in spiders webs
To wandering dogs down country roads
These are just some of the deeds
Of rescue
She has done
And of course
She rescued my heart
From certain single life
And ensconced it in
A loving family home
#NaPoWriMo
OK a bit of a cheat – one I had already written – but it fitted the daily prompt so well I had to use it.
Sparrow, sparrow in my way.
Briefly tell your tale today.
Tell me if my love is dead.
Do I waste the tears I shed?
Briefly now I’ll tell my tale.
Pray your courage does not fail.
You do not waste the tears you shed.
Alas I say, your love is dead.
A sharp, cold sword did spill her blood.
She tried to stem an angry flood.
But peace that day she could not win.
So fearful war will begin.
Thank you bird for being true.
Nothing’s left for me to do.
To take up arms and pursue strife.
Slay the spoilers of my life.
I bid you sir, think awhile.
Turn from this dark path so vile.
Listen to my humble song.
Step not where your lover’s gone.
Just a simple bird am I
But far above this land I fly.
And see its beauty spread below.
See ahead, where you might go.
Lay down your sword with forgiving heart.
Do not tear your land apart.
Still your rage and vengeance cease.
Follow rather a path of peace.
Humble bird I hear your song.
But my love is dead and gone.
So I raise my sword today.
And will make those killers pay.
The enemies that broke my heart.
And now have torn the land apart.
Upon their heads is all this blood.
For I must release the flood.
Then sir, I shall shed a tear.
For the future I do not fear.
Yet for now I swiftly go.
To make way for the crow.
#NaPoWriMo
Missed yesterdays – due to being very very ill. So this is it – and will try to catch up tomorrow
There is an ancient market square
Where we all spend our lives
And round and round the stalls we pass
Consuming precious time
The gates are closed to hold us in
While hawkers hawk their wares
Criers cry of doom beyond
The solid steadfast walls
In their towers high above
Lords and ladies gaze
Down upon the writhing mass
And counting out their pay
Where’s the farmer in his field
Where the traveller strange
Where’s the road beyond the gates
Or the key to let us out
So on and on for evermore
We circle round the square
In trenches deep from shambling feet
Beneath the icy stare
#NaPoWriMo
This is the half-light
The magic time
Deep blue light
Fresh born stars
Tales weaving
In expectant air
Firelight dimming
Shadows creep
Tales weaving
Dreams conceived
Past is close
The dead draw near
To hear
Tales weaving
With living breath
#NaPoWriMo
Away on holiday so writing in advance : -) cheating? I hope not – the effort has been put in.
Driving home
Fun is done
Sleepy heads
Happy ones
Bed beckons
Satisfied sleep
This is the peace
The turmoil
Aims for
#NaPoWriMo
Away on holiday so writing in advance : -) cheating? I hope not – the effort has been put in.
Five syllables here
But seven on the next line
A breakdown of thought
#NaPoWriMo
Again – totally off prompt today.
Red pulse
Beating hard
One day
Will blow apart
Until then
Keep on spinning
All in its well
Safe for now
For now
#NaPoWriMo
Totally off prompt today – it wasn’t for me.
Trees on the horizon
Fingers accusing the sunset
Shimmering waters deep
The soul of man divided
A fear that never speaks
Darkness encroaches deep
Thunder in the morning
Lightning cracks on high
Rolling sound so deep
Division rends asunder
Lands that had known peace
Now their daughters sleep
#NaPoWriMo
I am repeating yesterday’s prompt with a different interpretation. As It my son’s birthday and I will probably not be on the computer at all. So this was written in advance 🙂
Dawn sneaks over the hills
Light spills through the vales
And the veils of the window
I see beauty at last
Complicated, unfathomable, mystery
But right and true
Most the world walks by
Seeing a different way
This morning gives me hope
But the light washes out
Shadows darken veils
Traditions bear down
The beauty and the mystery
The reason and the truth
Are left behind again
The door is closed again
As ancient lore and law
Return us to the night
#NaPoWriMo
Following the prompt more faithfully today – as it’s a form I have never come across or tried before. And Aubade.
In the strictest sense of the term, an aubade is a song from a door or window to a sleeping woman.
Which is the interpretation here – though I have an idea for another which I may post tomorrow. Seeing as its my son’s birthday tomorrow so I may skip the prompt.
I pause at the door
Look down
At the mess on the floor
Think wryly
Don’t trip on my shoes
I don’t want to go
Believe me in that
Some things just cannot be
I hope you find
Happiness one day
I could not say goodbye
I am sorry
The chance was gone
Give the kids
A big hug from me
And cry, if you can
Hate me, if it helps
Feel the shape of the hole
I have blasted
In your heart
And fill it to the brim
And overflowing
With new loves and laughter
The heal and hold
You in his arms
My time is over
I turn away
Compelled
Walking through this door
Unable to refuse the finger of death
#NaPoWriMo
Today’s is only indirectly inspired by today’s prompt. I have not followed the instructions but the prompt led me to read some Emily Dickinson’s poems – which I have never done before. This poem sprung from that fertile land.
My lips are parched
For the wine
Promised on the air
Where is my wine
To dull the pain
Of waiting
Promises undelivered
From on high
So what now?
Carry on and on
Knowing no other roads
No junctions left
My lips are parched
Where
Did I lose my wings
Today’s prompt. Love poems are a staple of the poetry scene. It’s pretty hard to be a poet and not write a few – or a dozen – or maybe six books’ worth. But because so many love poems have been written, there are lots of clichés. Fill your poems with robins and hearts and flowers, and you’ll sound more like a greeting card than a bard. So today, I challenge you to write a “loveless” love poem. Don’t use the word love! And avoid the flowers and rainbows.
Only for you
Do I shoulder the collar
I pull the plough and furrow
Only for you
Do I labour all day
To bring the bread and water
Only for you
Do I toil my days
Until my limbs are broken
Only for you
Do I endure the whip
The cursing and the shouting
I could roam free
Over hill and dale
Run through deep green grass
And let the wind blow
Through my mane
And drink fresh mountain tarns
I could follow my dreams
Into the clouds
And fly with birds on high
But I curb my dreams
Relent freedoms sweetness
Shrug the reins back on
But only for you
Only for you
I have been loosely following the prompts on napowrimo.net today’s was fourteeners. I can’t guarantee I will stick to the prompts though. I’ll probably wander off on my own path at some point.
Oh, give me time, oh, give me time, give me time in my life
So I can dream and I can find an escape from this strife
So I can soar in the sky where only freedom abounds
Where we can dare to be ourselves and death does not his rounds
But these are dreams that slip away, drained by vampire bites
So we watch everyday as they fade like spent candle lights
Sucked away by the days and by the burdens of our lives
Yet in this turmoil of life is where most creation thrives
So, give me time, oh, give me time, give me time in my life
I was born in fire
In the fiercest whitest heart
I was flung in dying throes
Out into the dark
And through the dark I travelled
Over time you cannot dream
You cannot comprehend
The scales of things I’ve seen
The birth of stars from dust
From cold to burning fire
And then to bloated giants
And back to dust again
The start that swirl together
In hordes you will never count
Swallowed into nothing
Never to get out
Bright white young ones burning
Fast and bright and blue
Until they burst with energy
Too bright for me and you
And clouds like angels wings
Or swirling demons eyes
And flighty comets dying
With sparkling icy cries
All this and much much more
I cannot tell you all
Many many of your lives
Would pass before my tale
But now my time is dwindling
Now my tale must die
I have reached my end
I have reached your eye
#NaPoWriMo
Well that started spectacularly bad.
I was so ill yesterday I didn’t get to post my poem. But I did write it in my head.
So this is yesterdays – today’s I will try to post later.
Jörmungandr
By Scott Bailey © 2015
There once was a grouchy poet
If happy, he sure didn’t show it.
A dragon was curled
Around his whole world
Fire above and fire below it.
#NaPoWriMo
So having conquered NaNoWriMo last year and done a poem a day for a whole year previous to that I have now signed up for National Poem Writing Month – 30 poems in 30 days.
How hard can it be?
Gulp!
Just two kids to look after as well as a mounting work load – hence me writing this at nearly 1:00am.
Still – it will be good to get my poetry head on again.
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 