sounds of hooom

NaPoWriMo Day 18
Prompt: The sound of home

Warks slang

“Waste not
want not,”
Nanny use ta saaay.
“Therrre wonce was a gurrl
who had a little currl
rrright in tha meedull
of her forehead
and when she wuz goood,
she was verrry verry goood,
but when she was baaad,
she was horrid!”
“Granda’!”
Uptown
on double day-cker boos.
Coins in me pockit
ta spen’ at shop.
Mags, candy, meebee me favoorit sheeke.
Strangers in tooon.
Walk the ‘ole of Strat
wiv me aunt, cuzins, the whole lot of ‘em.
Bloody ‘ell it’s a long
walk to schuule in tha reeen
just to sit wiv a bunch of berks, twats and wankers.
Me bruthur he’s a bad’un he is.
Mum will find out soon enuf ‘bout the broken
shed window in the ‘llotments beyin’
Three Witches.
“Fookin ‘ell,” sez me Uncle Johnny
he sez that
all time.

Advertisements

wee poems

NaPoWriMo Day 16
Answered some random questions and used all of my answers in my poem. I enjoy the surreal and the abstract.

Almanac Questionnaire

wee poems

Hail the Trillium
as maypole dancers skip
under vaulted ceilings.

*

The garter snake wraps around
the coroner,
like a bendy straw,
not as dangerous as asbestos.

*

Don’t worry be happy,
even if
you’re tempted
by the fruit of another.

*

When Princess Diana was killed,
the wedding gown went.

*

Christopher Plummer
is at The Three Witches Pub,
again.

*

It’s a child’s playhouse
in Greece
where the Pope
meets migrants.

*

They’ve been in a closet
for over 15 years!
You know,
the Gryphons.

*

Llama
llama
red
pyjama
and a banana
are good
for bedtime.

*

How much
per body part?
She asks
as I’m driving
through the snow,
passing the CN Tower.

Switch

NaPoWriMo Day 14
Prompt: playing with doubling in form – couplets.

Switch

Switch your foot
This way and then that

I care for kindness
So there’s really just that

This bullying thing
It’s got to go

From what I hear
It makes young women go

And end their lives
Too short it’s not fair

To drive a car into the wall
Of her high school, to be fair

And another young woman
Took her life just the other day

Apparently it was bullying, kept hidden
She lived with the secret every day

Is it worth it, for our children
To be so mean and cruel

They don’t need to go off to fight a battle
At home they live every day with cruel

I wish to see an end to all this
No young woman should go amiss

Because after the funeral be over
The thoughts to why this happened, go poof and amiss

Rebounds

NaPoWriMo Day 14
Prompt: san san

Rebounds

Racing from window to door, the wound dog
Bounds over the ottoman, paws landing
Out of mind, out of body, out of treats
Her paws landing, on door, on window. Leapfrog.
Trees budding, people walking – she’s spying
Bounding, she sees blue, she sees yellow
Past window and door, no bounds only feats
Footsteps in, paws land on the young fellow.

Great, Great Aunt Ada’s Iroquois Farm

NaPoWriMo Day 11, Prompt: Choose an object or place and end the poem with an abstract line.

Great, Great Aunt Ada’s Iroquois Farm

Standing on the wooden fence
I take my eyes off of the huge pig in the mud.
The smell of farm lives up my nose.
I turn to hear my great, great-aunt Ada yell, “Willy!”
Wearing her kitchen apron,
over her dress, her nylons too thick for this heat,
with her hands placed on her hips, she means business.
My brother comes out onto the porch and yells for the dog too.
But, his voice doesn’t quite carry over the land.
The stone house, with the wrap around veranda,
sits before the field, where the rusty-red tractor leans.
And a worn path that leads to where the cattle are milked,
no longer by hand.
Uncle Joseph shows me how it is done.
That other farm smell also lives up my nose
making my stomach lurch,
when the milk bottle is set onto the kitchen table before me,
with the heavy cream, near overflowing on the top.
I’m allergic to dairy.

Let me in

NaPoWriMo, Day 10
Prompt: NaPoWriMo’s Bookshelf Poem

“Let me in!”
Midnight witch:

“The witch’s daughter?”
“Gone girl!”

The white witch of Rosehall:
“With no one as witness.”

There seem to be a number of voices speaking. I’m wondering who is talking and how many there may be.

Lament the Famous – Version I

This is a poem re-write in response to Bertolt Brecht’s “Hollywood Elegies” for NaPoWriMo, Day 9. The original poem has five sections. I’ve chosen to just present the re-write of the first section.

I used a prompt from the website Language is a Virus, using what’s called homolinguistic translation and chose to do “free” translation as a response to each one of Brecht’s lines.

Lament the Famous – Version I

Legs crossed,
under a pink peppercorn tree,
small orbs raining
on me.
Poor creative people,
feet in gutter puddles
across the street.
Orchestral scores –
sheets of them
blown by the wind,
down the sidewalk,
and veering into traffic.
Grabbing one,
that floated my way
into the park,
I thinking about using it
to clean my windows;
like I use old newspapers –
to let the light in
during the day
when I can
write.
It’s a hot light:
fiery like pink peppercorns.
Fiery like the old guy
in the same park,
just a different tree,
dancing under
the pelting pink peppercorns –
where there is hot light.
He crosses the street
to cool his feet
in gutter puddles
humming Bach’s Cello Suites.
As his friends
come together as one –
I can see the shimmering heat
raising off the tarmac
as I look at them
all gathering
in a wavy circle.

Window Envelope

IMG_2304

I wrote a poem using enjambments, not breaking prepositional phrases to allow for a better flow. I’m wondering if this is, perhaps, a meta-poem.

I’m also thinking a great deal about Eileen Myles and her use of the word light in her poetry – it’s something that I think about, a great deal. This piece was also inspired by a fellow ModPo friend, Ray Maxwell, who taught me about prepositional phrases and flow.

Window Envelope

I like writing
a poem
that makes me look further
on down the page
to find out,
what it’s all about.
I may get somewhere
and find out something.
I could learn anything new,
or old,
or true,
or bold,
or nothing.
Nothing can lead
to something.
It can also lead me
to the light.
Surely, it can.
Where I write
the best.
I wonder
if there is a window.
Where he told me
to write good,
as I showed him
the snow. It should be
write well,
I think. Surely,
I can find
this light.