Tag Archives: feelings

He likes mornings

He chitters, chatters, clitters, clatters – he likes mornings
I mumble, stumble, grumble, fumble
I don’t like mornings

He hums, drums, sings, swings – he likes mornings
I flump, bump, grump, wanna thump
I don’t like mornings

He sways, strays, plays, finds ways – he likes mornings
I hide, abide, guide, chide
I don’t like mornings

He moves, grooves, screams, beams – he likes mornings
I love him, want to shove him, but I love him –
even when he likes mornings

Inspired by today’s prompt, though not exactly following it. We’re on day 24 of #OctPoWriMo. I’m amazed that I’m still able to write, even on days when I feel like all ink has dried up in me.

I am lost

I am lost
Can someone please find me?
I was last seen sobbing
on the corner of a street

I know I took a right turn
and a wrong one
Though my tears have dried
My vision stays blurred

I remember a decisive moment
a choice being unmade
Things fogged up after that
I wonder if my tears lied

I am lost now
Can you please find me?
Google maps will lead your way
if you know my coordinates

The elephant in the room

The angry elephant in the room
tiptoed towards the escape hatch
His trunk smashed all the china
but he stepped on no one’s toes

No one complained loudly
Why do you wreck my wares?
If you’d have stomped your feet
and kept your trunk to yourself
nothing would have shattered

The sad elephant in the room
held back his tears and swallowed
Being the elephant in the room
never works out
no matter how hard you try

The elephant in the room
starved itself to death
It never complained
It just said sorry
when no one tripped over his vacant skin

The unwanted elephant in the room perished
not a trace of him was left
No one was surprised
it felt lonely

Day 14 of #OctPoWriMo. Today’s prompt is movement and words.

Felicific family

She desperately clung
to the image of being a good mum
She said all the right words
She did most of the right things
She impersonated patience
She tried
and tried
and tried
She said sorry when she failed

He leisurely tried
to be a good dad
He said the right words
and some wrong ones
He put boundaries in place
and added some patience
He tried
and tried
and took a break
He said sorry when he failed

The child desperately tried
to be good progeny
It tried to mollify mummy
it tried to delight daddy
but the rule book
was confusing

The suggested prompt for day 10 of #OctPoWriMo as announced in the supporting Facebook group is Power and Control. Since I’ll be away most pf the day, I worked ahead, and took the chance to work on this poem that I started a while ago.

For those who wonder:
– Felicific means causing or intended to cause happiness
– The drawing represents people I know. The poem is combination of conversations I’ve had with different people.

Please don’t make me understand

Sometimes I’m fed up with all the things I understand now

I vividly remember when I didn’t understand
how someone could feel no self confidence
(those were the days)

I remember when I couldn’t picture
how daily tasks could seem too difficult to deal with
(they’re Kodachrome now)

I vaguely recall getting up in the morning
and looking forward to the day ahead
(those aren’t even black and white anymore)

There’s so much I understand these days that I’m sick of it

like how mothers can feel guilty over anything
like talking loved ones can be too much to bear
like how the outside world can seem too dangerous to enter

Sometimes I’m scared of the things I do not understand
Will they be the next thing I do?

Today’s prompt: http://www.octpowrimo.com/2017/10/day-5-finally-i-understand.html I try to use my own visual work as illustrations, because I’m sure about the copyright of that. This work is by Thierry De Cordier. The picture doesn’t do it justice, it’s stunning. Other works can be seen here or by google image search Thierry De Cordier

Elevenie snapshots

plays piano
in holiday cottage
fingers dancing over keyboard

drive through
huge miniature landscapes
endless amounts of detail

plays piano
away from breakfast
mother irritated as hell

standing still
everywhere I look
luckily I’m on holiday

plays piano
chooses choir sound
to annoy his mother

going up
In Hamburg playground
daddy falls off, laughing

plays piano
end of holiday
goodbye cottage and piano

majestically bridging
the Hamburg waters
this city once obliterated

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.