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National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
April 26
AOL News
Two featured stories:
thousands of Emperor penguin chicks
wiped out in the antarctic
and
some starlet I've never heard
of stuns on the red carpet
in a see-through dress.
AOL News
Two featured stories:
thousands of Emperor penguin chicks
wiped out in the antarctic
and
some starlet I've never heard
of stuns on the red carpet
in a see-through dress.
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
Deb, I believe your Overview Effect is your best offering so far.
Indar, dying penguins and nameless starlets, Short but telling.
=====
I need an early night tonight and tomorrow may be rather busy, so I'm posting tomorrow's early. But I am sticking to writing one a day.
Gyppo
=====
Napo 27 - 2019
That other 'Gyppo'
There is another Gyppo out there.
He lives in a parallel universe,
rather similar to mine,
but he's a little less organised
and far more sneaky.
Which, to be fair, takes some doing.
He has also found a portal,
possibly no bigger than a cat flap,
between our two worlds.
When he can't be bothered with 'stuff'
he slides it through into my world.
It looks familiar so I don't notice at first
and he knows when I'm pre-occupied.
He often strikes when I'm writing,
but in April he really takes the piss.
That's when he 'borrows' my stuff.
I have eleven teaspoons in my drawer,
and they're all gone.
I'm down to the last of four butter knives,
and there's only two plates left in the rack.
I know I didn't leave them piled in the sink
in mucky cold grey water,
or stacked on the draining board
with stiff dried curry around the bowls.
Twenty four hours is my limit,
usually much less.
So it must have been the other Gyppo,
using my stuff and returning it unwashed,
thinking a dreamy poet won't notice.
But I do. And enough is enough.
So I will find that portal, oh yes I will.
Imagination has its uses.
Then later this year, when he's away,
taking in the three day Game Fair,
(because all poachers visit the game fair,
rubbing shoulders with the keepers
in green wellies and waxed jackets,
checking out the latest security tricks),
I'll fill his sink, and his washing machine.
That'll teach him a lesson.
Then maybe we'll nail the portal shut,
each from his own side.
Gyppo
Indar, dying penguins and nameless starlets, Short but telling.
=====
I need an early night tonight and tomorrow may be rather busy, so I'm posting tomorrow's early. But I am sticking to writing one a day.
Gyppo
=====
Napo 27 - 2019
That other 'Gyppo'
There is another Gyppo out there.
He lives in a parallel universe,
rather similar to mine,
but he's a little less organised
and far more sneaky.
Which, to be fair, takes some doing.
He has also found a portal,
possibly no bigger than a cat flap,
between our two worlds.
When he can't be bothered with 'stuff'
he slides it through into my world.
It looks familiar so I don't notice at first
and he knows when I'm pre-occupied.
He often strikes when I'm writing,
but in April he really takes the piss.
That's when he 'borrows' my stuff.
I have eleven teaspoons in my drawer,
and they're all gone.
I'm down to the last of four butter knives,
and there's only two plates left in the rack.
I know I didn't leave them piled in the sink
in mucky cold grey water,
or stacked on the draining board
with stiff dried curry around the bowls.
Twenty four hours is my limit,
usually much less.
So it must have been the other Gyppo,
using my stuff and returning it unwashed,
thinking a dreamy poet won't notice.
But I do. And enough is enough.
So I will find that portal, oh yes I will.
Imagination has its uses.
Then later this year, when he's away,
taking in the three day Game Fair,
(because all poachers visit the game fair,
rubbing shoulders with the keepers
in green wellies and waxed jackets,
checking out the latest security tricks),
I'll fill his sink, and his washing machine.
That'll teach him a lesson.
Then maybe we'll nail the portal shut,
each from his own side.
Gyppo
Last edited by Gyppo on Sun Apr 28, 2019 1:44 am, edited 2 times in total.
I've been writing ever since I realised I could. Storytelling since I started talking. Poetry however comes and goes
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
30 ways to die.
#27
Sometimes
while deeply absorbed
I inadvertently realise I'm at peace,
I listen
and wonder if I'm still alive,
can't feel my chest's rise and fall.
Mouth closed, no air appears to pass
in our out of my nose,
my breaths so shallow
I must be recycling
dead air spaces.
So unaware of my body
I could leave
in those moments of distraction,
close my eyes,
and without a care
just switch myself
off.
#27
Sometimes
while deeply absorbed
I inadvertently realise I'm at peace,
I listen
and wonder if I'm still alive,
can't feel my chest's rise and fall.
Mouth closed, no air appears to pass
in our out of my nose,
my breaths so shallow
I must be recycling
dead air spaces.
So unaware of my body
I could leave
in those moments of distraction,
close my eyes,
and without a care
just switch myself
off.
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
Nice one, Colm.
A grand description of those 'still' moments.
Thinking about it, if breathing wasn't an autonomous reflex, I suspect most creative types would die young whilst deeply preoccupied
Gyppo
A grand description of those 'still' moments.
Thinking about it, if breathing wasn't an autonomous reflex, I suspect most creative types would die young whilst deeply preoccupied
Gyppo
I've been writing ever since I realised I could. Storytelling since I started talking. Poetry however comes and goes
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
Forgotten
When exhausted people
move households
in the dark
or multiple cartons at once,
things will misplace themselves
to resurface months later, in ruins.
Crated and labeled,
“IMPORTANT! PLEASE PUT THIS BOX IN THE HOUSE!”
carelessly left outside
beneath inadequate coverage
come what may,
from May one year
until to June, the next.
You choke on the rancid taste
of sickening absoluteness
when something in your care
is found beyond repair.
Remnants of rare books,
no longer in print,
once prized family treasures,
handed over for safekeeping
by relatives that held dear
the previous owners,
cherished their signatures,
notes, and the fact,
he held this and read these very words…
their tethers and yours, now broken.
The books, the grantors,
the cherished loved ones,
and all hope of absolution
irretrievable for the remainder of time.
The expectation of salvation ceases to carry validity.
These Memories will not return
without reminders -
is an exquisitely painful reality.
~Deb
When exhausted people
move households
in the dark
or multiple cartons at once,
things will misplace themselves
to resurface months later, in ruins.
Crated and labeled,
“IMPORTANT! PLEASE PUT THIS BOX IN THE HOUSE!”
carelessly left outside
beneath inadequate coverage
come what may,
from May one year
until to June, the next.
You choke on the rancid taste
of sickening absoluteness
when something in your care
is found beyond repair.
Remnants of rare books,
no longer in print,
once prized family treasures,
handed over for safekeeping
by relatives that held dear
the previous owners,
cherished their signatures,
notes, and the fact,
he held this and read these very words…
their tethers and yours, now broken.
The books, the grantors,
the cherished loved ones,
and all hope of absolution
irretrievable for the remainder of time.
The expectation of salvation ceases to carry validity.
These Memories will not return
without reminders -
is an exquisitely painful reality.
~Deb
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
Great stuff, Gyppo - you took my selves for quite a ride
Colm - quiet and in control, observing... wonderful
Indar - so much is so few words...........
Deb - WOW - "misplace themselves" - "choke on the rancid taste of sickening absoluteness" - "their tethers and yours, now broken" - "all hope of absolution" - "an exquisitely painful reality". So beautifully written and speaks volumes, tender and final.
Colm - quiet and in control, observing... wonderful
Indar - so much is so few words...........
Deb - WOW - "misplace themselves" - "choke on the rancid taste of sickening absoluteness" - "their tethers and yours, now broken" - "all hope of absolution" - "an exquisitely painful reality". So beautifully written and speaks volumes, tender and final.
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
Triolet 27
She visions a new fence and gate.
I squint, see the checkbook empty.
She feels my glare a sign of hate.
She visions a new fence and gate.
She comforts her heart's fear of hate.
I soften a regretting sorry.
She visions a new fence and gate.
I squint, see the checkbook empty.
She visions a new fence and gate.
I squint, see the checkbook empty.
She feels my glare a sign of hate.
She visions a new fence and gate.
She comforts her heart's fear of hate.
I soften a regretting sorry.
She visions a new fence and gate.
I squint, see the checkbook empty.
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
Gyppo,Gyppo wrote: ↑Fri Apr 26, 2019 4:21 pmDeb, I believe your Overview Effect is your best offering so far.
Indar, dying penguins and nameless starlets, Short but telling.
=====
I need an early night tonight and tomorrow may be rather busy, so I'm posting tomorrow's early. But I am sticking to writing one a day.
Gyppo
=====
Napo 27 - 2019
That other 'Gyppo'
There is another Gyppo out there.
He lives in a parallel universe,
rather similar to mine,
but he's a little less organised
and far more sneaky.
Which, to be fair, takes some doing.
He has also found a portal,
possibly no bigger than a cat flap,
between our two worlds.
When he can't be bothered with 'stuff'
he slides it through into my world.
It looks familiar so I don't notice at first
and he knows when I'm pre-occupied.
He often strikes when I'm writing,
but in April he really takes the piss.
That's when he 'borrows' my stuff.
I have eleven teaspoons in my drawer,
and they're all gone.
I'm down the last of four butter knives,
and there's only two plates left in the rack.
I know I didn't leave them piled in the sink
in mucky cold grey water,
or stacked on the draining board
with stiff dried curry around the bowls.
Twenty four hours is my limit,
usually much less.
So it must have been the other Gyppo,
using my stuff and returning it unwashed,
thinking a dreamy poet won't notice.
But I do. And enough is enough.
So I will find that portal, oh yes I will.
Imagination has its uses.
Then later this year, when he's away,
taking in the three day Game Fair,
(because all poachers visit the game fair,
rubbing shoulders with the keepers
in green wellies and waxed jackets,
checking out the latest security tricks),
I'll fill his sink, and his washing machine.
That'll teach him a lesson.
Then maybe we'll nail the portal shut,
each from his own side.
Gyppo
I am always drawn to poems that show rather than tell. So much more powerful, realistic and humble. Don't nail the portl shut. marcel
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
Colm, The line breaks chisel this diamond into brilliance. You speak for the mystic in all of us.Colm Roe wrote: ↑Fri Apr 26, 2019 5:22 pm30 ways to die.
#27
Sometimes
while deeply absorbed
I inadvertently realise I'm at peace,
I listen
and wonder if I'm still alive,
can't feel my chest's rise and fall.
Mouth closed, no air appears to pass
in our out of my nose,
my breaths so shallow
I must be recycling
dead air spaces.
So unaware of my body
I could leave
in those moments of distraction,
close my eyes,
and without a care
just switch myself
off.
The last stanza offers a lifelong meditation. thanks you. Marcel
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
April 27
Praying Mantis Have Darling Faces
heart-shaped with big, wide-set eyes.
Designers of extraterrestrials for the movie
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
must have had the mantis face in mind.
Like creatures from outer space,
mantis are Kelly green, they keep
their tiny hands folded before them
saying grace, hence the name.
A female mantis chews the head
off her boyfriend after mating,
we must assume she has her reasons,
she can snatch a hummingbird
out of the air mid-flight for dinner,
eat it raw and pick her teeth
with a flight feather, then go
in search of a garter snake for dessert.
Mantis are not otherworldly, they are
part of the miraculous web of life on earth,
they live in our forests, carefully preserved
nature center, our back yards,
look for them, they have darling faces.
Praying Mantis Have Darling Faces
heart-shaped with big, wide-set eyes.
Designers of extraterrestrials for the movie
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
must have had the mantis face in mind.
Like creatures from outer space,
mantis are Kelly green, they keep
their tiny hands folded before them
saying grace, hence the name.
A female mantis chews the head
off her boyfriend after mating,
we must assume she has her reasons,
she can snatch a hummingbird
out of the air mid-flight for dinner,
eat it raw and pick her teeth
with a flight feather, then go
in search of a garter snake for dessert.
Mantis are not otherworldly, they are
part of the miraculous web of life on earth,
they live in our forests, carefully preserved
nature center, our back yards,
look for them, they have darling faces.