POEM: Pants

New pants are on the scene
Have you ever seen something so supreme?
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday’s best
With a label upon its crest
A symbol of the snuggly feel
That you get from a Sunday meal
Everything in its right place
Puts a smile upon your face
Jump to the left
Hop to the right
With these pants
I’m full of might
I can do anything
In red pants of glory

I got thinking of the time when I was young and we got new clothes. The excitement, particularly of new pants. Bigger pants. They seemed to symbolise growing in age and becoming an older boy.



Moment

There is that sweet moment of the day when silence seems to descend and time holds still and even the bustle of a packed café remains unnoticed as you let your mind wander, take a turn down a path, untrodden, overgrown with branches forming a canopy of green, and as you wander you begin to notice the magical figures that flitter between the leaves, darting from flower to flower to add a sparkle of colour, and just ahead you glimpse a white steed, a unicorn, drinking from a brook as an elf plays a lullaby on a panpipe, an it is at these moments you paint a scene, craft a character and place them, give them words to say and a task to do, a quest to strive after, to reach for like the words you seek to place on a page, a phrase of imagination, and then you pause for a moment, look around, and realise where you are, in that café, surrounded by people.

This came about when wondering what to write. It had been a while since I wrote something new as I had been spending my time editing a book of mine ready for submission so the creative muscle was rusty. And whilst sat there in the open with a coffee nearby, it reminded me of all those times when time stood still as I wrote, how it could take you places and how a good piece of writing could also take its reader places. So I wrote about that moment.

POEM: Tick

Tick
Tick Tick
Tick Tick Tick
Search for a word
The hunt for a gem
An unpolished stone will not do
A crown sparkling full of sun’s light
Nothing less will make this dull poem shine
So I investigate the thesaurus as time drifts by
Tick

This poem came about as I was thinking of the struggle to find the right word as the pressure of time beats down. That pressure can lead to the mind not working, of drawing a blank and grinding to a halt, unable to progress. Writing needs to be without pressure. I also wanted to play with a constraining form so decided to write a poem where each line has one more word as it progresses downwards. This is the result. What do you think?

POEM: Contentment

Ball of contentment
sweet dreaming of warm log fires
and a little mouse

This poem came about because I was trying out different poetry forms. I like poems with clear structures that constrain you but at the same time free you as you don’t have to worry about how many stanzas you are going to use, or what rhyme pattern you are going to go to battle with. This poem is obviously about my cat and how content he looked settle on my lap before a winter’s fire.

POEM: Words

Words are watching you
They gather your thoughts
They tell your secrets
They spread lies
and state truths
They can break a heart
They ruin friendships
or destroy an evening
Beware words
They can imprison you
or set you free

This poem came about as I was mindlessly watching tv and thinking of the impact that certain people’s words have had on others. It got me thinking about the power of words and how easily they can be misused to create harm.

POEM: We Go A Wandering

Photo by  Abhinav Narayan 


It is interesting how the mind works. I haven’t written any new poems for a while or posted on here but thought it was about time I did. So what to write. I decided on a poem but my brain was empty of ideas. So I went to bed having written nothing.
A bad nights sleep. I kept waking up. I woke up at 3AM, wide awake. So I decided to listen to a Frank Skinner podcast on poetry. The poet he was referencing had written a poem using ABC structure so I thought “I’ll try that!”. Then I fell happily asleep.
It was that time when you are half-awake, half-dreaming. I was dreaming of people walking in the countryside and a song/poem filled the air. I came to. The words still clear in my head. I wrote them down. I wasn’t sure of some of the words – did they even exist. I checked. Yes, they did. I had written a poem in my sleep state using real words I didn’t think I knew. How strange!
So here is that short poem.

Here we go a wandering
A trundling
A trolling
Here we go a wandering
In the glade

Trundling = to move in a wagon; to roll along
Trolling = to say in full, rolling voice

POEM: Summer sea & sand

Blue sea under blue sky

Sea
blue cerulean
crashing rushing swirling
deep expanse colour grains
slipping rolling sliding
warm butterscotch
sand

 

This type of poem is called a diamante. I thought I would try and write one myself as I like poems with clear structures. They can be fun to play with. It uses the following structure:

One noun (a)
2 adjectives (about a)
3 verbs (about a)2 nouns  (about a) + 2 nouns (about b)
3 verbs (about b)
2 adjectives (about b)
One noun (b)

So in above poem:

Sea
blue cerulean
crashing rushing swirling
deep expanse colour grains
slipping rolling sliding
warm butterscotch
sand

Why not try and write your own?

POEM: the day the school was shut

shut school

the caretaker lost his broom
did a cartwheel
across the classroom
the day the school was shut

the school PA charged the computer
went on Dateline
looking for a suitor
the day the school was shut

the teachers began to sing
skipping around
in a great ring
the day the school was shut

the cook threw the potato smash
juggled the plates
watched them crash
the day the school was shut

the parents all began to scream
ran out the doors
looking for ice-cream
the day the school was shut

the school nurse poured out  lotion
skidded across the floor
causing a commotion
the day the school was shut

the Head Teacher stroked his wig
hopped on a table
and did a jig
the day the school was shut

This poem came about as I was inspired to do a poem about school’s shutting due to the Covid-19 lockdown. Then it snowed and I remembered the glorious snow days as a kid and the school getting shut and being able to play with friends in the snow.

POEM: This is just to say…

pic of paper

I have broken
the vase
that was in
the living room

and which
you definitely
were giving
to your mother

Forgive me
it was ugly
so lumpy
and brown.

This poem is based on This is just to say… by William Carlos Williams.
Other poems and their structures can often provide inspiration for writing. Why not check his poem out here https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/56159/this-is-just-to-say and give it a go yourself.