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NaPoWriMo 2015

NaPoWriMo #30 – Can You Write Your Own Elegy?

So NaPoWriMo has come to an end. I would say this has been pretty successful, lots of fun ideas were explored and I’ve got the seeds of some potentially great material. Some of my pieces have been stronger than others but that was sort of what I expected from writing a poem a day. I’m not sure I could keep at this much longer (though saying that, it’s never really taken up a huge amount of time) but I will definitely endeavour to post a blog exclusive poem as much as makes sense. Silly competition rules count something being up here as being published.

I’m going to do a full write up over the weekend so for now, enjoy the last of my NaPoWriMo 2015 poems!


 

The song list was all picked out,
music to remember me by
chosen for its rarity.
It wouldn’t do to have you breaking
down at discos,
ceasing as the glitter ball keeps spinning
and wishing it would throw you off
like tear-blurred scatterings of light.

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NaPoWriMo 2015

NaPoWriMo #29 – Scribe

A flower, found tenacious in a dark room,
pale and in wait of light to turn towards.

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NaPoWriMo 2015

NaPoWriMo #28 – Advice For My Daughter

So, this is an idea that I’ve had bubbling in my notebook for some time but a very dear friend of me told me that they had similar plans so it seemed like a sign to put something out there. Hopefully, they won’t think I’ve stolen their idea.


 

Plant your feet far apart
and dare the world to push you over.
You will not have to ask, your
existence will cause them to try.
Learn coyness from sequoias,
demand the sharpest axes cut you down,
remind them that you’ll bring the forest with you
and you will make a sound,
oh such a sound,
though they won’t be round to hear it.

I will teach you words and how to use them,
what to do when no-one listens.
The world should know your voice,
don’t leave silence as you stride your way right through.

There are people you will want to love,
they won’t know how to let you
so show patience, in the first place,
and wisdom when it comes to let things pass.

Drink water. Even if you have a life
much happier than mine,
you’re sure to cry – don’t be caught
down on supplies. Buy a handkerchief,
it’s the kindest way to cry
when whole forests are cut down.

You matter, not because you’re mine but
cause you are made of matter
that decided to give life another try.
Make every moment matter
so that atoms speak about you
’til they all come spinning to a stop.

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NaPoWriMo 2015

NaPoWriMo #27 – Hard To Swallow

I was raised on bread and butter lies,
bland yet just more than enough
to stop my stomach growling
in the search for answers.
My body filled,
my soul needs something more.

The truth is a gourmet meal,
carefully prepared and served up,
garnished gently, oozing juices
ready to be sopped up by the thickest crust.
A meal so rich is indigestible,
perhaps even unpalatable.

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NaPoWriMo 2015

NaPoWriMo #26 – Plucky Bastard

Strings I strum,
beauty from pulled apart agony.
Chords and notes, made by
moving metal,
metal moving air,
air moving skin
and art moving heartstrings.

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NaPoWriMo 2015

NaPoWriMo #25 – The Sky is Crying and I Can’t Stop the Rain from Falling Down

I would not trade away
a second of my life. Pain
is a poor teacher but
it gets the point across.

Think of all the rich men
lying beside a box whose beeps
are gradually slowing down.
Eliminating all their zeroes
for a minute more of pain.

 

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NaPoWriMo 2015

NaPoWriMo #24 – Cigarette Burns

I’ve lived my life like I am waiting
for the final fifteen minutes of the film.

Drinking besides men who’ll smoke anything
except the brand their father bought.

Listening for the last call,
the fights for taxi cabs,
hoping to see Cinderella dressed in rags – hear the music swell
and give a great speech,
step around the vomit,
find a place to kneel and say
Hey, you going my way?

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NaPoWriMo 2015

NaPoWriMo #23 – Happy Fucking St. George’s Day

They announce their coming to the street,
with slapping footfalls weighed by a day’s work.
Drunk on beers they can’t pronounce
in outifts bearing rust-red crosses,
whose straining seams were stitched
together for the lowest price
by people they despise. Please,
try not to be offended.

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NaPoWriMo 2015

NaPoWriMo #22 – Arsenic

Beauty gets hung up
in galleries, left to fade
but they want you to
look in monthly magazines
that ask you live, fighting time.

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NaPoWriMo 2015

NaPoWriMo #21 – How Worthy Are The Dead?

It’s Charlotte Brontë’s birthday today but she’s not that great. Emily is the best Brontë sister.

Scuffed garden path,
leading to the graveyard
that spreads out below your window,
growing, like a black mould, day by day.

The carpenter and stonemason
grow quietly rich. The gravedigger
wakes each morning with an ache
that ripples across his knotted, broad back.

Though the tombstones cast
long shadows in the moonlight,
their letters must be read,
remembered in the day.
You’ve given every name
up to the stars. This way they
will live, if not forever,
more than two short months
at least.