Tag Archives: feelings

Elevenie snapshots

Child
plays piano
in holiday cottage
fingers dancing over keyboard
proud

Trains
drive through
huge miniature landscapes
endless amounts of detail
joy

Child
plays piano
away from breakfast
mother irritated as hell
fight

Tanks
standing still
everywhere I look
luckily I’m on holiday
relieved

Child
plays piano
chooses choir sound
to annoy his mother
success

Seesaw
going up
In Hamburg playground
daddy falls off, laughing
fun

Child
plays piano
end of holiday
goodbye cottage and piano
sad

Bridges
majestically bridging
the Hamburg waters
this city once obliterated
resurrected

It’s the last day of NaPoWriMo 2017! This was the prompt: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about something that happens again and again.” I’ve been capturing our holiday near Hamburg in elevenies. One of the recurring things was my son playing the electric piano in the cottage. We also visited wonderful exhibitions, had great food, and, unfortunately, there were many irritations.

Thanks to everyone who visited my blog, who has read my poems, who has liked, commented, responded to tweets, etc. You are what makes #NaPoWriMo so much fun!

Unfree matter

What is one to do
when one has a head that doesn’t stop
that’s on full time
that doesn’t know how to take a break
that doesn’t do empty
that laughs at zen
that cries at zen
that screams for control
that tries, tries, tries to keep the void away
and anger and fear and all threats
whereas the absence of those, is the absence of life too

I can’t say I long for death

dead flowers is as far as I’ll go, and easily
cause I’m not very good at taking care of plants
they don’t talk to me
I don’t talk to them
and I’d probably be pissed off if they DID talk to me
because COME ON there are too many people talking to me already
pulling my strings pushing my buttons and i have buttons everywhere EVERYWHERE
I could be a goddamn shop
a haberdasherie

not a hasherie
that would be a Dutch drugs boutique

I want pills pills pills
not that I don’t dislike pills, I do
but I need them
I want happy pills
HAPPY pills
can you imagine that?
there was at time when I wouldn’t even take paracetamol
and now I want pills pills
pills that will make everything better
pills that will make me feel better
pills that will keep me from losing it with my child
because I’m endlessly fed up with his behaviour
and then feel totally embarrassed because the child’s seven for pete’s sake
shouldn’t he have a mother who keeps it together
who raises him so that she never feels the need to flip a finger
who moulds, him shapes him
grinds him like a coffee bean
and turns him into the best coffee in the world –

now that you mention it
it doesn’t sound nice to utilize your child to make coffee

what is one to do
when one has a head that doesn’t stop
that’s on full time
that tries, tries, tries to keep the void away?

This was today’s prompt at napowrimo.net: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to take one of your favorite poems and find a very specific, concrete noun in it. For example, if your favorite poem is this verse of Emily Dickinson’s, you might choose the word “stones” or “spectre.” After you’ve chosen your word, put the original poem away and spend five minutes free-writing associations – other nouns, adjectives, etc. Then use your original word and the results of your free-writing as the building blocks for a new poem.”

I really wanted to try this prompt before I read other people’s work, to see what would happen. Now that I’ve written it, I want to post it straight away instead of saving it for day 30. Let’s see what tomorrow brings 🙂

I secretly gave up on you

I secretly gave up on you
Sure, I still go through the motions
“My name is Sue, how do you do?”
But I secretly gave up on you

I secretly gave up on you
These fleeting fragments of now
Together cannot create a future
You’re stuck in my past
So I secretly gave up on you

If we were to meet like we once met
What would I say to you?

Censored (strike through font)

Hello, how do you do?
I secretly gave up on you

If you don’t have a clue with how much emotion the sentence “My name is Sue, how do you do” can be spoken, you probably don’t know this Johnny Cash song:
Safe to say that in this poem, that sentence is meant as a metaphor for saying one thing and meaning another.

How I wish

How I wish you weren’t here
too many lost souls
swimming in this small bowl

Silently screaming, awkwardly appealing
to my sense of saviour

See me, feel me, touch me, hear me,
write me a song, pen me a letter,
tend to my needs, make me feel good

How I wish I didn’t hear
your lost soul
echoing in this fish bowl

I know you want to be found
but I’m not searching

Yesterday’s prompt was to use overheard conversation. In this case it’s an overheard song, Pink Floyd’s Wish you were here. And I’ve added a bit of The Who.

Acknowledgment

I didn’t want to hurt your feelings
but now that I’ve done it
I truly don’t mind

Beginner’s luck –
a high score
without even trying

Yesterday’s prompt was to use the language of sports and games. You can probably tell that one was still lingering in my mind 🙂

Today’s prompt on napowrimo.net calls to use overheard conversation. She talked about how sweet he was is a poem that forever keeps the memory of a conversation I heard that irritated me endlessly. Reading back that poem, I remember where I was sitting, where she was sitting, and how she ignored the delicious looking dish she’d ordered.

Hopefully posting this will clear my mind to write about a new snipppet of overheard conversation. If so, I’ll probably post that tomorrow. For now, day 21 of #NaPoWriMo is done. I’ve been reading so much of the poetry that was posted this year that I feel my head is starting to overflow with words.

You won’t like it

If you were to scratch my skin, lightly
again and again
anew
you could see rebuke shimmering through

If you were to take a needle
and pierce my hide
just once
a drop of remonstrance would well up

If you were to take a razor blade
and cut me, slowly
you’d encounter a stream of truth
crimson damnation

Please don’t make me bleed words

My mind won’t wrap itself around a clarihew, the prompt for NaPoWriMo day 14. I’m looking forward to reading other people’s clarihews – a four line poem that’s a satire of a famous person. I’m posting something serious instead.

Somehow it reminds me of one of the first poems I wrote, which happened to be for NaPoWriMo to, in 2013. It’s called unfinished business. It features words filling a bath.

Linking to some clarihews in case you’re in need of a smile:
Oscar Wilde, Marie Antoinette and Rasputin
Scarlett O’Hara
Sean Spicer and Jeffrey Dahmer
Sigmund Freud
John Coltrane
Sartre, Becket and Kafka
Darth Vader
King Richard Lionheart
Edgar Allen Poe
Thor, Zeus, Isis and more
Jesus and more

Added note April 16: I just remembered I did try a clerihew once. I ended up with something political instead of satirical: Permission denied