DAY 29
She aged 1,000 years in that one moment!
The moon is made of green cheese and smelled even better.
She could hear the eyes swivelling from side to side
Elizabeth imagined living on the Sea of Tranquillity
The moon is actually made of cream cheese but tastes of beer.

This applies only when the cheese has liquified and feels slippery.

Laiking outside and bouncing up and down will always make your hair curly

azegorrizatton? The shiny coin of mathematics will pay your bills immediately
the high mountain sides, once climbed, prove to be a covering merely for a volcano.
Elizabeth makes her first attempt at skiing down the Mountains of the Moon
she knew they called her Stanza and decided
she will fly to the Moon on a rubber tennis racquet

Definitely the best cheese ever got from the Moon, certainly the best she has seen.

Ana bahebbek, she murmured as she watched
The cow jump over the moon with its papyrus wrinkled skin.

DAY 30

FAREWELL

Farewell, dear muse – but could it be farewell?

The chance to write, compose or fill a space

With words – such is the joy of building verse!

Farewell, my friend but do not leave me long

For should the urge return, I must write more

Those rhyming patterns must perforce be made.

For sonnet, curtal, blank or ruba'iyat,

terza rima or a golden shovel,

all these and more create a joy within

which spins the heart and mind around my pen.

A fond farewell I must in sadness make

But beg you soon return for poetry's sake.

day 27 – A SNOW BOUND STREET

Dawn rises on this cold monochrome street
Crisp imprints of feet which go both North and South.
A tiny bird has hopped this way as well.
A snow imprinted metal fence holds back
A garden piled with snow along its slope
An unlit lamp points to the garden steps
guarded by snow topped pillars to the house.
Thick snow holds to the branches, frost on twigs,
on trees which grow all down the silent road.
Cars left earlier now have snowy hats
And snow on screens and bonnets shielding them.
Silent and still, this street awaits the day.








and another one! .......

A COUNTRY VIEW

The peace of an early summer morn
The flat calm of a wide light-rippled lake
Crunchy gravel forming a neat footpath
Edged with grass that slopes to the water
A narrow country road whose limit-point
bends to the right away from me here....
A single tree stands sentinel over all
Its glossy leaves stand proud against the sky
A sky so high, with blue so glorious
Bedecked with fluffy clouds, black edged somewhat
That bathe the distant hills in shadow dark.
A scene to dream, to walk, to view, or stand
And gaze for evermore entranced.

 DAY 25 - COME WITH ME

Come with me along life's pathway

Come with me and see things fresh and anew.

Come with me back to your childhood

Come with me far back to your birth.

Come with me and study anew

Study anew the form of a babe

Study anew the fingers and toes

Study anew the cry of that child

Study anew the voice as it changes

Study anew the acquisition of language.

Come with me and learn as you look

Look at the height this child has attained

Look at the strength of those arms and legs.

Look at the beauty of emerging maturity.

Look and remember that this was you.

Come with me and remember the joy

Remember the thrill of learning and doing

Remember the happiness you showed and you gave

Remember again the laughter, the sorrow

Remember emotions that you had forgotten.

Come with me as you grow older and need

Need from those others what you gave to them

Need the support and the guidance and love

Need help on occasion with life's little tasks

Need understanding and helping

Need love and smiles and laughter again.

Come with me now as you rest in love's arms

Come with me knowing you lived well

Come with me on this final path

Come with me holding hands with love

Come with me as you remember with joy

Come with me at life's ending

Come with me, giving one last smile.

Come with me – come with me – come with me.

 DAY 26 – A CURTAL SONNET ON 'LIFE'.

A paean praising life itself should be

Written in words of glowing gold I think.

Life that holds happiness and joy the key

To love of all we need, for care the link.

Such faith we should be taught at Mother's knee.

Life thus will hold us up ere we can sink.

Respect for everything in life we know

Has taught that joy well shared will help us all

To glory in the thrill of high and low.

To share life's ups and downs lest we all fall.

Life is life itself ….

DAY 23

Today’s prompt (optional, as always), is an oldie-but-a-goodie: the homophonic translation. Find a poem in a language you don’t know, and translate it into English based on the look of the words and their sounds. For example, here are three lines from a poem by the Serbian poet Vasko Popa:

Posle radnog vremena
Radnici su umorni
Jedva cekaju da stignu u barake

I might translate this into English as

Post-grad eggnog, ramen noodles.
Nikki in the morning,
jacket just stuck with brakes.

That doesn’t make a lot of sense, but it does give me some new words and ideas to play with. Happy writing!

DAY 23 – my choice was:

LOVELY WATER LILY BY JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE

Im Wasser wogt die Lilie, die blanke, hin und her,

Doch irrst du, Freund, sobald du sagst, sie schwanke hin und her:

Es wurzelt ja so fest ihr Fuß im tiefen Meeresgrund,

Ihr Haupt nur wiegt ein lieblicher Gedanke hin und her!

In water wig the lily, the blank thin and hair

Dock irritates you friend, baldly you sag, see swanky thin and hair

Yes wurzle jars feast ear fussy teeth more ground

Ear hope near wheat eye lea lick get down thin and hair

From that I got:

A lily flower, translucent almost blank so thin,

A dock leaf to soothe my sagging bald, but swanky friend

A wurzle turnip in a jar near your ear, a fussy you – teeth on the ground -

Hope brings your ear and eye near the meadow lea, you lick thin hair down.

(which is nearly as bad as the quasi-translation!)

The lily flower with petals so thin

Grows near the hairy nettle and dock

Feast your eyes and teeth on nearby ground

Where wheat and wurzles grow for your meal.

(even that's hardly better!)

DAY 24

And now, our (optional, as always) prompt! Peter Roberts has been participating in NaPoWriMo for several years now at his blog, Masonry Design. He has the charming and odd distinction of having only written poems about masonry. Today, I challenge you to do the same (for one day, at least), and to write a poem that features walls, bricks, stones, arches, or the like. If that sounds a bit hard, remember that one of Robert Frost’s most famous poems was about a wall. Happy writing!

An ancient wall with bricks all pitted

In its centre an arch with gentle curve.

Red bricks with lime cement

Tell silent tales of history past.

Red bricks which whisper tales

of people clothed in strange attire.

Jackets and breeches of strange shape,

Dresses which brushed against the floor.

The dimpled stone which made

a garden edge beyond the wall.

Flowers that grew and brushed the brick

of this elderly wall so frail, so tall.

Bricks made by hand in an old kiln

By knowing hands made strong with skill.

Bricks made to last, now covered in dust

Stand yet still for us to enjoy.     

 DAY 22 - FOR MY CHILD

Grumpy is grumpy because he's not neat,

His coat is threadbare and sags to his feet.

His growl in his tummy no longer growls

He just sounds like he is squeaking big howls.

Bears should be proud of their growls and their coats

So proud they would always get the best votes.

Grumpy has whispered to me 'Oh, yes please'

He gets upset when the other toys tease!

You can sew him a nice colourful suit

So he's posh from his head to his boot.

And I'll get a new growl and fix it quick

So he 'll be all new in a tickety-tick.

A bear with new clothes and a growl that's good

He'll be so proud, you know that he would.

The best bear in the toy box or on your bed

That's what he told me – that's what he said.

DAY 21 - FOR NICK

I think as I visit in my mind -

of Nick on his horse, so proud.

Of the gardens up on the old railway line

Where we can all look down and dream

Of this fine city – of Macy's – and tours

On the Grey Line buses.

Visit the Guggenheim, and ride in a carriage

drawn by proud horses through fine streets.

Of the time when Nick almost lost his life

In a terrible Twin Towers day of sorrow.

Nick, who's been in the odd film or two,

Nick, who's got the finest moustache in town.

Nick, who'd sing in the Carnegie Hall

if we let him – but we won't.

New York City – home of dreams and of Nick.

DAY 20 -

I can hear my father's voice in my ear ….....

Many years ago when I was young and fit

I'd ride the ranches in my cowboy kit.

Canada, my stamping ground for years,

Became the source of all my loves and fears.

Astride a horse, with a song on my lips

And a six-gun on each of my hips.

Then came the Depression, and wages no more,

So a hobo life, and comfort no more.

Jump a train, work for my keep then move on,

A ranch, then a train, another year gone.

Illness strikes, a hard journey across the sea,

Rushed into hospital before my tea.

A big operation and a nice nurse

Then expressing my love in not bad verse.

She wouldn't leave her job though I asked oft

So I joined the Army to prove I'm not soft.

For the next ten years I proposed when I could

At least she knew with my love where she stood.

So in the middle of war she said 'yes'

Made me a very happy man, I confess.

DAY 19 – Scotch Bonnets

Scotch Bonnet peppers have a rare old kick -

Eat too many, there's a chance you'll be sick.

Put them in a sauce rather than on a plate

And try not to give too many to your best mate!

Even to smell a chopped Bonnet chillie

Can make you sweat or send you silly.

Taste only when the vinegar's added

Add some sugar , then the sauce is padded.

Only now can you enjoy your Bonnets

Its taste now is worthy of a sonnet.

On steak, or in a carbonara sauce

Still be gentle or you 'll end up hoarse.

DAY 18 - A RUBA'IYAT :

A NIGHTSHIFT ON THE WARD

Some of the patients really can snore

Loud vibrations rattle through to the floor.

Some are more quiet and just give a 'pffh'

Or the wakeful knock on the office door.

They've had their medicines and evening drinks

They've bathed and got rid of muscular kinks.

Now softly to bed, where sleep eludes

Because they spent all day having forty winks.

The confused walk the corridors up and down

Pacing every onwards with a worried frown.

They can't remember their name or address

So they continue to pace in a hospital gown.

Those in pain buzz for an injection

Or help to turn in a different direction.

Though others are much more reluctant

their personal problems to mention.

Day 5 – THINGS I CAN SEE

Sunshine and shadow chase across the wall

The wind chases clouds over it all.

The chimneys are empty of smoke these days

But the pigeons sit there and downward gaze.

The wind chimes sway and reflect the sun

The way they will do til the day is done.

The cobbles are patchy where some rain has dried

Still surrounded by leaves that have died.

The terracotta bricks glisten with light

Reflected from the sun at such great height.

The rippling puddle reflects it all

And round it I can hear the small birds call.

Close to the wall the weeds persist

Removing them's a job on my list

A beautiful day for looking at things

Such earthly beauty, my heart sings.

***********

Day 6 - A SHOVELIZED RED WHEELBARROW

I always did like my garden just so.

These days I can't do quite so much

How my back and my knees are all depends

On how much load I've balanced upon

my poor aching joints who like a

rest between digging potatoes and carrots red

I carry stuff round in a cart with a wonky wheel

because I'm too mean to buy a proper barrow.

I work until my eyes are glazed

with fatigue and my back aches with

all the work. I garden in sun and sometimes in rain

though often in summer I have to water

all the plants and the crops and the flowers beside

the fence – though strictly she should water the

flowers not me! I love the sight when white

bantams cluck in the yard – just because they're chickens.

******

DAY 7 – A LOVE POEM

I just love my new hair piece!

Real hair, not fake

The colour a perfect match

the curls so soft

The whole thing so perfect

It fits so snugly to my scalp

No-one would know it wasn't

A part of me!

*********

Day 8 …..re-write someone else's poem – George Robert Sims: Billy's Rose

BILLIE'S ROSE RE-WRITTEN

Two little waifs dragged up any old how

In London slums many years ago now.

The little boy ill, dying of want of care

None to tell the parents or none who dare.

His sister helps as much as she can

Tales she'd tell to this little man.

Of elves and fairies and of the Good Lord

Who had a playground so no-one would get bored.

He knew he was dying but his only plea

'A memento, sister, will really help me'.

The weather was bad, with fog and snow

But that didn't stop our little girl go.

She ran through London in her bare feet

Not another soul did she meet.

She sought a rose growing in a field

she decided to pray so down she kneeled

exhaustion had got her but she loved that boy

so she prayed for a rose to bring him joy.

An answered prayer – a rose thrown away

tossed by a Lady annoyed that day.

Cold and exhaustion killed this girl

Her love and loyalty like a pearl.

She went to heaven with her rose

And there was her brother as everyone knows.

She'd lost her life proving her love

But always guarded by the Good Lord above.

She greeted her brother with a kiss or two

And said here is a rose, just for you.

*********

DAY 9 – FIVE SONG POEM

The sun whose rays fall on this view

Will reveal such joy to you.

Such joy you'll never want to leave

And in it you will your wishes weave.

If you're weak enough to tarry

You'll meet one you'll want to marry.

You will say 'Prithee pretty maiden'

For by now with love your heart is laden.

Take a pair of sparkling eyes

Gaze in them and know they're wise.

'None shall part us from each other,

For we're made for one another.'

********

Day 10 – POETRY FOR THE MASSES

Let's teach it again in schools

Learn poetry in all our classes

Make it one of the best school rules!

Just think, you could learn History

And possibly Geography too

Maths would be no longer a mystery

And Science through poems you could do.

Cookery and Music and Dancing

All learnt through the art of meter, (metre???)

And then there are poems you could sing

All this would make learning much neater.

We'd learn new poems in English

And write our own pieces as well

Learn Languages if that's your wish

And speak 'foreign' until the school bell.

So you see poetry can cater

In all classes throughout the day

We'll all learn lots of data

And be happy and brainy, okay?

********

Day 11 – an anacreontic poem

BEER AND BIRDS

I'm the luckiest man alive

I have two loves, each by my side.

One is Angela the other is beer

Keeping pace with them costs me dear.

I take her out to wine and dine

But I order beer by the stein.

She's a love and just needs food

To ignore her would be so rude.

I give her a kiss and order more drink

A few more beers and I give her a wink.

She toasts me with her small wine glass

That's why I like her, she's got some class.

The beer is good, and is my main love

But Angela is my own lovey-dove.

I'm a happy man with these two

Lots of beer then I can bill-and-coo.

********

DAY 12 - so – CHANGE PAPER TO HOPE.......

" You call me up again just to break me like a promise.

So casually cruel in the name of being honest.

I'm a crumpled up piece of HOPE

Trust is like HOPE, once crumpled up,

it can’t be perfect again.

I would rather chase HOPE then chase.......

but right now I'm not worried about any of them

because money can't buy love , its over priced

I'd rather hang on to this HOPE.

"If I were to give you HOPE and told you

To write what's good in your life,

you might write down a couple things.

But, if I told you to write down your problems,

you would run out of HOPE.

Basically, we always focus on the negative in our lives.

Therefore, In my heart, I know I don't deserve HOPE.

I shall try to find the HOPE you mention

and carefully consider it.

We didn't have much HOPE when he was a child.

But he can grow up with that HOPE,

and achieve a successful life.

Thus, I am willing to avail myself

of any hint coming from without,

to offer this HOPE once more to the press.

*********

DAY 13 - A 'KENNING' POEM

kennings:

info leaf (page), glazed orifice (window), verbal locution (speech), teller monger (informant), mastication grazing (eating), gaffer bloke (man or boss),

I lean on the window sill looking out

MY GARDEN

The plants are growing without a doubt.

As I peer through the glazed orifice

I think the daisies are ones I won't miss.

Daisies are pretty in a country park

But all over my lawn it's not such a lark.

In verbal locution I tell my friends

How gardening can bring dividends.

From an info leaf I learn how to grow

Many teller mongers say what to sow.

Now I am mastication grazing

Though not really trail blazing.

Flowers, fruit and vegetables too

My gaffer bloke tells me what to do.

I hum symphonic syllables

As plant life round me doubles.

*******

DAY 14 – LOVE?

Do you still love me?

Is that a fair question?

Without you, where would I be?

Can you answer without hesitation?

Do you think I treated you wrong?

Do you still think I'm hard and mean?

Did I do the sulks for far too long?

Do you think I'm no longer keen?

If I apologise, will that do?

What did I do that's so unforgiveable?

If I grovel and crawl to you, too?

Will I have to make my apologies double?

Will me on my knees make you smile?

Is a tiny twitch all you can muster?

Walk on my knees for a whole mile?

That's far better – now I know our love has lustre!

**********

DAY 15 – SPRINGTIME (in terza rima)

Sunshine lights the sky for our joy today

The arc of the sky from the east to west

So high and clear, it thrills our hearts this day.

Not a cloud to see, this day is the best

Of this year's spring. A day for a picnic -

In the park? In the hills? We'll take our guest

For a country walk and we'll let him pick

Where he wants to wander, to celebrate

The wonder of sunshine and grass so thick

It's a thrill to walk or yet stand and wait

While we all view, from some sunny hill top

A far distant train, pulling heavy freight.

The warmth from the sun, and our brows we mop

As our efforts create a fine sweat sheen

A day to be glad - to run, skip and hop.

We say thanks for the sunny day it's been.

*********

DAY 16 – SILLY LIES

The world is definitely flat and square

I rinse my hair with the juice of a pear

The sky is green in the mid-day sun

Every big cake is really a bun

Roses smell of pig sty muck

And geese always choose to mate with a duck.

Snowflakes are made from slow cooked rice

And rain on bread is rather nice.

A giraffe's favourite place is down a mousehole

A young baby rabbit is known as a foal.

*******

DAY 17 -

SPENCERIAN SONNET (a b a b b c b c c d c d e e) on A SPIDERS WEB)

A spiders web is ephemeral when

Grabbed by the uncaring fist of a man,

But ethereal and light beyond our ken

When it appeared as today began.

Wispy threads spread in a double fan

Gossamer soft but immensely strong.

Sticky and clingy to catch flies it can

Last for days if nothing goes wrong.

Each little thread its patterns among

The most complex seen by untutored eye

Each silver-grey or white thread sings a song

When gently stretched, I tell you no lie.

Thus skilfully woven its purpose lies

In catching its visitors by surprise.  

  

Writers Tip - "Be your own editor/critic. Sympathetic but merciless!" — Joyce Carol Oates

SYMPATHETIC BUT MERCILESS - POEM

I can understand your sadness

I could sympathise with your stress

But rules are rules you know, sirs

And writ for lords as well as curs

You may weep, whimper and regret -

Or spend time getting in a fret

But the law lays down what I must do

To the likes of sinners such as you.

A crime that started as a joke

Now puts your necks right in the yoke

So I must with heavy heart and soul

Ignore your pleas as you cajole.

As a man I sorrow at your deeds

Such sin that truly my heart bleeds

The rules say I must be merciless

That you got yourselves into this mess

And so with such a sorrowing heart

I condemn you to a life apart

A penal colony on Mars

A hard life but – no prison bars.

************

THAT PIGEON!!

A pigeon glares down balefully

From his lofty perch

on the conservatory roof.

He’s not a happy little chap I fear

Because I chase him away from his desires!

He wants to perch on the delicate frame

Of the plastic window feeder

Designed for robins and blue tits and such.

That pigeon can feed on the big garden feeder

But this little plastic frame

sticks on the window so I can watch close-up

the beady eyes and fluttering wings

of tiny, hungry birds who watch me

just as I watch them.

This big pigeon weighs a lot more

His heavy feet knock the feeder askew

And makes him flap –

Then the feeder slips more and the seeds

Drop down to the window sill

(where he still can’t get at them!)

So there am I – receiving solemn looks

From a bird who thinks I ‘m mean.

The garden feeder’s like a house –

Loads of room for him there!

Will he go there – no, not he!

He prefers to ruffle his feathers in a sulk

As he glares at me and grumbles

He’ll preen his feathers and walk on the roof

With his claws making a ticky-clacky sound

But always he watches – and peers down his beak

As if I’m doing him wrong!

**************

This is a peculiar creature I came across in The Fantasy Encyclopedia by Judy Allen, and it is a lesser-known part of English mythology. They say that a certain crossroads are a door to another world, the world of the faeries and the gods and demons that act in ways that we don’t usually see. Every now and then, these crossroads will have a peculiar occupant—the faerie dog. These aren’t the puppies you and I know—these dogs are bright green and will bark once or twice as a warning. But upon the third bark, the listener is doomed. Perhaps throwing a bone might help?

CROSSROADS - VILLANELLE

Take care my friend take care this night

Near the woods, at some crossroads

Will the green dog bark tonight?

Another world door might come in sight

Faeries and demons obeying their codes

Take care my friend take care this night

A warning bark but it won’t bite

This faerie door misfortune bodes

Will the green dog bark tonight?

A second bark warns you must take flight

A crossroads to fear, or demon toads,

Take care my friend take care this night

A third and your fate is sealed up tight

The faeries and demons tempt you loads

Will the green dog bark tonight?

These faeries and demons of which I write

They will tempt you to try their abodes

Take care my friend take care this night

Will the green dog bark tonight?

************

(day 3) A CHARM

Eidetic, eidetic, please come to me

So I remember all that I see

Eidetic, eidetic, whate’er I read

On words and pictures my mind will feed

Eidetic, eidetic, my memory use

Always for others this knowledge transfuse

Eidetic, eidetic, their need is so great

My needs are small and their needs won’t wait

(Eidetic memory commonly referred to as photographic memory or total recall, is the ability to recall images, sounds or objects in memory with great precision)

**********

LUNE (3 words, five words, three words)

April spring month,

Blossoms, buds, sunshine,

Bursting forth anew.

**********