VOTE FOR ME !!!

Ok, so I'm not normally one to spruke myself but this is my way of seeing if I actually have anyone who reads and enjoys my work ...

If you're on twitter, you can also help me by using the following hashtags:
#bestblogs13 #nonaspoetrycorner

I much appreciate your support and though I don't write to win accolades (just for my own enjoyment), the occassional virtual high-5 is nice.

March Poetry Challenge (16th March, 2013)

In Search of Happiness

In January I looked under the couch.

That’s usually where things end up
When I lose them or can’t find them
But it wasn’t anywhere under there.

In February I looked in the fridge.

Food has given me such comfort
Over the long and many years,
But comfort is not happiness.

In March I looked around the garden.

Though the flowers were pretty indeed
And the trees were stunningly magnificent
It wasn’t the feeling I was searching for.

In April I looked in the city.

With it’s high rise buildings and
Stark, modern landscape
It was nowhere to be found.

In May I looked in the country.

The rolling hills inspired me
While the fields nourished my soul
But still that happy feeling eluded me.

In June I looked to the heavens.

The sparkling stars shone down
And the moon glowed brightly
Yet it was not there at all.

In July I looked to the sky.

The suns warm rays filled me up
With good will to all mankind
Yet, not quite the happiness I sought.

In August I looked to the snow.

It’s intricate beauty mesmerising
And it’s touch so refreshing
But not that which I longed to find.

In September I looked towards the earth.

Life springing eternal in many forms
And renewing itself once more
Yet not a speck of happiness to keep.

In October I looked to the mystical.

No God nor spirit nor mythical beast
Could conjure up that feeling
Which was proving quite elusive.

In November I looked to family and friends.

Their love and companionship
Means more than anything to me
But that which I cannot find externally.

And then by chance one December day

I happened to catch a fleeting glimpse
Of something that had been with me always:
Happiness, in my constant beating heart.

March Poetry Challenge (15th March, 2013)

Room to Move

I feel so constricted here

Like the walls are closing in;
There’s precious little air here
And what there is tastes stale.

I need to stretch my wings

And fly free once more;
Free my mind of the shackles
That have held it for too long.

Give me the room to move,

To really expand my horizons;
To be confronted by the unknown
And not shy away from the fear.

March Poetry Challenge (14th March, 2013)

On Talent

Being talented is so much more

Than being good at something.
It’s being driven to succeed
By something deep inside your soul,
Having the courage of your own convictions
And the power of self belief.

With a little talent it’s easy to get by,

To float through life, not really trying
And expecting that everything will happen
Just the way it’s supposed to,
But when it doesn’t happen that way
The whole world collapses in on you.

With a lot of talent you can rule the world

But it won’t last as long as you think
Because there’s always someone
With more talent than you’ll ever have
Chasing you down and knocking you off
The pedestal you’ve built for yourself.

With a little talent and a lot of hard work

There is nothing that cannot be achieved
And no-one can tear you down
No matter how hard they try
Because talent is shallow and fleeting
But dedication breeds resilience.

March Poetry Challenge (13th March, 2013)

A Picture of You

I look at your picture sometimes

But not all the time.
It lives in a draw by my bed
And I take it out every now and then.

It shows the twinkle in your eye

Your beautiful blue eyes
That I always thought
Looked just like your sisters.

Your hair was darker than hers, though,

Much more like your fathers,
Well, before it started to turn grey,
And well before it began to fall out.

Sometimes, I open the draw,

Only peering in before I close it.
In those moments the pain is too raw
And I want to scream and cry.

Other times, I take it out,

Hold it close to my heart.
And remember the happy times
That I never wanted to end.

Your laugh made me laugh,

Your smile made me smile,
And the conversations we had
That no-one else would understand.

I’m holding your picture now

On what would have been your day –
The day you came into our lives
And filled it with the joy of a lifetime.

And though I may shed a tear,

Not the first nor the last,
You will forever be in my heart

And always be my baby girl.

March Poetry Challenge (12th March, 2013)

Beyond Tomorrow

I might wish on random days

To know what will come,
Not tomorrow but further,
On days more distant.
I could be happy in the knowledge
That my prince charming
Is out there somewhere
Just waiting to be found;
I could tremble at the thought
Of that fateful, yet inevitable, day
When I cease to draw the breath of life
And, instead, expire;
But what good is that awareness
When every action by myself
Or some friend, relative
Or random person never met
Can change the entire construct
Of my very existence
Making the understanding gained
Null and void and useless.

March Poetry Challenge (11th March, 2013)

Licence to Write

I remember that first day,
Feeling somehow more grown up,
That in the space of a day
I had aged exponentially.

I was putting away childish things,

Having to live with the mistakes I made,
Indelible and forever mine,
Scrawled by still small hands.

This was the day I was trusted

To hold my future in my hands,
To make my mark permanently
On a world that saw me as a child.

No longer at the mercy of broken pencils

And no longer forced to erase my errors;
I was now the proud and grown up owner
Of the most wonderful gift I had received.

In my hot little hand I held,

Ready to write the speaches and songs
That would move the world to tears,
The first of many pens I would own.

Whether the cheap and nasty variety

Or the expensive and carefully crafted,
Each would bear the expression
Of a mind finely tuned by experience.

Though the ink may occassionally run dry,

The imagination never would.
The scripts of a thousand days
Would ebb and flow in my viens;

Still, the writing would continue to flow,

Though I again would graduate
To a medium sometimes shallow and cold,
And I would never forget that old feeling …

Or that old friend of mine.

March Poetry Challenge (10th March, 2013)

My smile

I can’t describe the feeling,

The overwhelming feeling,
The miraculous, wonderful feeling,
Of knowing that you’re there.

I get this warm glow inside

That fills my very being
From the tip of my pointed toes
No the top of my head held high.

But the only way you’ll recognise

When I am in this sort of mood
Is to look at my beaming face
For the smile ten miles wide.

March Poetry Challenge (9th March, 2013)

Family

My family is not like yours.

I don’t have the two parent household.
I don’t have any siblings.
I’m not married, yet I have a child.

I have cousins old enough to be my parents,

The ones who live closest to me, in fact.
The ones who are my age
Live half a world away.

My son calls my friends aunty and uncle.

He’s never known his father.
He may have cousins, brothers, sisters
That he’ll never even meet.

My father lives with his ex,

In a granny flat above her house,
Where she lives with her husband
And the children that they had.
 

My mum has never remarried,

The thought never crossed her mind.
We live, mostly happily,
Under the same roof as always.

One day my family may include

A man who wants to stay
And build a life together
But I won’t hold my breath.

Family is what you make it,

Even if they aren’t bonded by blood.
The connection isn’t always physical,
But those who stuck the course.

March Poetry Challenge (8th March, 2013)

Hair today, gone tomorrow

Curlers, straighteners, crimpers, pins

Darken, lighten, highlight, whims
What we’re born with, what we have,
What we die with, matters not.

Wear it up or wear it down,

Tight braids or loose curls,
To fringe or not to fringe
Or to half a fringe instead.

Cut it short or let it grow,

Undercut, layers, or perhaps Mohawk,
Plain and unadorned
Or bright and interestingly styled.

Whatever your fashion, or lack thereof,

Whatever takes your fancy,
Be proud of your luscious locks
Or your smooth and shiny head.

March Poetry Challenge (7th March, 2013)

On Gloriousness

There is nothing so glorious

As that first whiff of aroma;
Before the oven door fully opens
Before eyes have seen its delight.

It fills the mind with delicious thoughts

And melts the other senses to nothing,
Leaving only the insatiable craving
For that which must be devoured.

March Poetry Challenge (6th March, 2013)

The Dress

The door slid easily along

As it had done so many times defore
Revealing the miriad of colour
From the brightest blue to the grungiest grey.

Her hand caressed the fabrics;

Soft leather, smooth silk,
Rough denim and warm wool;
None quite grabbing her as they once had.

A sparkle caught her eye,

Hardly noticible amongst the others,
But somehow the perfect shade,
The perfect shimmer and shape.

It called to her and she took it down,

Sliding it effortlessly off the hanger.
She held it in front of her
And twirled in front of the mirror.

Suddenly, she felt seventeen again.

The memories of the first time she’d seen it
Came flooding back
As if it were only yesterday.

It had been the same all those years ago,

Almost hidden on the racks of clothes,
A subtle reflection of the light
Catching the gaze – unable to look away.

The years had not been kind –

Children and marriage and work
Had slowly changed her over the decades –
But not for the dress.

It retained it’s youthful sparkle,

It’s shimmer and shine still there.
She knew the dress was no longer hers
And never would be again.

But it did not go back in the darkness,

Not back on it’s hanger to wait.
It stayed out in the light and the bright
To dance another day.

She watched the dress float out the door,

Those sparkles still catching the light
And dancing joyously on the wall

As the music carried it through the night.

March Poetry Challenge (5th March, 2013)

Requiem for an Unrequited Love

Keenly waiting for that which will never be

Calm façade showing nought
Keeping that last flicker of hope alive
Crossing names off the dwindling list

Any sign that I have imagined,

Signs that clearly are not there,
Are only heightened by your friendship
Showing me a love that cannot be.

Just break my heart and be done with it,

Leaving me having is hardly fair.
Justice surely would be to let me go,
Let me escape the spell you put me under.

Maybe, perhaps, it’s not up to you.

Sometimes it slips my mind.
Maybe I have to snap out of this headspace,
Stand up to my own wandering imagination.

Alone and underwhelmed by love,

Grabbed by the fleeting and unreturned,
Assaulted by ridiculous images and
Ghostly feelings that never last.

March Poetry Challenge (4th March, 2013)

Idle Worship
 
What idol do you hold up before you?
Some enchanted being from ancient superstition
Or mere mortal propelled into public conscience
By notoriety or obscure talent?

How does your idol appear to you?

Is it something over-powering,
Omnipresent and omnipotent;
Or tangible and real?

What image does your idol take?

Is it adorned with the latest fashion plate
From the catwalks of Milan or Paris
Or perhaps something more classical?

How does your idol speak for you?

Do the words carry the weight of authority
Or just the vile trappings
Of some gilded, vacuous being?

What can your idol do to help you?

Is it awesome and inspirational
And give comfort when you are low
Or more aspirational in kind?

How do others see your idol?

As some everlasting icon
Or as a fly-by-night
Matinee heart-throb gone tomorrow?

What does your idol mean to you?

A face to love?
A being to worship?
A life to be emulated?

How is your idol better

Than anyone else's?
What right have you
To tear down their ideal?

March Poetry Challenge (3rd March, 2013)

Once more, with feeling …

There was an air there

In that little room,
Almost tangible,
Of despair and gloom.

The stark light of the bulbs

Washed out her face
Exaggerated, perhaps,
By the chiffon and lace.

Around her hung the decorations

Of a thousand other days
Sequins, feathers, beads,
That once reflected the suns rays.

For the last time those eyes looked out

At the mask she had to fit,
The war paint she must apply,
To get through this last bit.

Slowly now she reached out

With an old and trembling hand
To pick up the slender brush
Which transported her to another land.

The colours seem more muted,

As though robbed of their hue;
They would never have the vibrancy
That they did when her skin was new.
 
Each tender stoke transformed her,
Though not as it once did,
For there was more of her showing through
And less of her was hid.

The final touches having been applied

For one final curtain call;
One last appearance,
Once more bell of the ball.

March Poetry Challenge (2nd March, 2013)

The Best of Friends

When I was wee –

Much smaller than now –
With a mind innocent
And full of wonder
The best friends I had
Were buried deep in my mind
With names so fabulous
That no-one could believe
A child such as I
Could have ever thought
To give them names such as that.

As I grew up –

In mind and in body –
Mi mejor amigo was flesh and blood,
But they all eventually disappeared
Into the ether, never to return,
Just as if I had simply
Unimagined those beautiful people
As I had done all those years before,
Memories all that remains
Of the friendships we swore
Would never come to an end.

Now, as I sit here –
A little older than I was
But somehow so much wiser –
I have found some sort of answer
To a question I never really asked
Yet has hung over me all my life:
Mon meilleur ami has always been
Closer than I ever thought
Buried deep in an overgrown mind
Yet always just under the surface,

Keeping me company until the day I die.

March Poetry Challenge (1st March, 2013)

Inspired by my friend, Ally (who is also doing this challenge), we are writing a piece a day for the month of March based on the erratically popular Facebook phenomena of "photo a day" ...

The Ubiquitous Self Portrait

It is, for all intents and purposes,

A challenge of the greatest magnitude
To live up to that image we portray
To the unassuming general population.

The wide smile we plaster on,

The happy demeanor,
The picture we want people to see
Like a glamour shot in a magazine.

The real image is hidden away,

Visible only to those who care to look
Beyond the veil of make-up,
False bravado and photoshop.

Can we not create for ourselves

A more realistic image
That is not so traumatising
When it is finally seen through?