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A New Friend – NaPoWriMo
Apr 30th, 2010 by Entropy

A New Friend

Friends are things that people wear like trinkets.
Or flies they’ve caught in their sticky webs.
Or electic cables they can plug-in to channel connections and power.
Or mops to suck up their woes.

I feel like today in you I found:
a stout staff,
a trusty steed,
a sharpened axe,
a bright mirror,
a lens to see the world through,
a lost button that’s a perfect match,
a sea shell shining on the sand,
an oil lamp in the window,
a footprint in the snow,
a box with a perfectly-fitting lid.

And the best thing is,
you have been
right beside me
for years.

by Entropy
The §purious Collective

Writer – NaPoWriMo
Apr 24th, 2010 by Entropy

Writer

Your words are seeds
planted on the fertile page
mulched in vivid images
quenched by flowing dreams.

Themes grown from memories
scented melodies and flavours
warm hearths and soft hearts
threshing expression
harvesting style.

by Entropy
The §purious Collective

Fight or Flight – NaPoWriMo
Apr 22nd, 2010 by Entropy

Another villanelle. Cheating here, as I didn’t write this one recently. In fact it was for a class. It didn’t get a very good reception as I over-used the same word – light – too much. One of those times where you can say what you want to say, but you can’t say it will. (That’s why the real poets are paid the big bucks! Hahaha! ;-)) Still it is worthy I think of another outing here today.

Fight or Flight.

She stays still and quiet and hidden by the night
a creature on the run and laying low
her mind, trap-sprung, is set to run or fight

A leaf rustles, a twig snaps, she takes fright
and huddles deeper, safer in her burrow
she stays still and quiet and hidden by the night

Her eyes are wide to let in still more light
ears seek out a sound the eye can follow
her mind, trap-sprung, is set to run or fight

And as she waits until the morning light
time concertinas fast and slow
she stays still and quiet and hidden by the night

A dark shape moves towards her in the moonlight
her need to stay outweighs the urge to go
her mind, trap-sprung, is set to run or fight

She wills a conscious switch from fright to flight
but the grip of stillness overpowers her so
she stays still and quiet and hidden by the night
her mind, trap-sprung, is set to run or fight

by Entropy
The §purious Collective

ps. Happy Birthday to me!

Grandma – NaPoWriMo
Apr 11th, 2010 by Entropy

There was a time when I didn’t understand what a “Grandma” was.
When I was younger my parents said I called her gasman,
and they had questioned me why I would call her such a thing
And I had replied that she was who she was – gasman in a trailer!
It was my way of saying Grandma in Australia, but I didn’t know what those words meant.

My first memory is waiting to meet her at Southampton dock.
My father complained that she could afford to travel by cruise liner
and instead she was coming home by banana boat!
My three year old imagination was filled with images of an old lady
sleeping amongst banana boxes in the hold.

But, then she walked down the gang-plank,
Wearing a fur hat – the biggest hat I’d ever seen, except on a Mexican.
When she held out her hand to me,
I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to shake it or to kiss it,
But then I saw her red fingernails and I decided not to do either.

“Psychedelic!” I called her. “Precocious!” she called me.
We glared at one other for a long time and so the bond between us was forged.
For years to come I was to be her co-hort, companion and chaperone to the old folks club
Together we would steal lavender – for her lavender bags – from people’s gardens
Sew buttons onto cards. And try not to get caught scrumping pears, again!

She would sing with her concert party in a high pitched vibrato and pull a silk scarf .
through her long fingers
And I would sit on the stage near to her or turn pages for the lady who played the piano.
Once when I was six we got up together to recite the poem about the “little yellow eye doll . to the north of cat-man-doo”.
And then I cried at the end when I realized I’d been standing up on that stage all alone.
Old men had laughed and applauded and a little old lady cupped her hand under my chin.

As I grew older, I realized that not everyone was a fan of Grandma.
People around me didn’t see her as fun or frivolous or independent.
I saw anger that she had gone off to pastures new and left her only son and his wife.
I saw jealousy that she had left with nothing and yet somehow made her fortune there.
But mostly I saw they couldn’t understand her strange and miserly ways.

But I knew that she grew up in a time when she had nothing and she learned to get by.
She ate chicken livers and pig’s heads and scraped the black off burnt toast.
Made fabulous concert dresses out of curtains from the jumble,
and you tried hard not to laugh at the fabric from the cushion cover across her behind.
People said to her “You can’t take it with you”. But she just replied “I am who I am”.

Then one day, when I was a teenager, and not so keen anymore to sit on the pier
Eating fish and chips and watching the dredger, she told me she had itchy feet.
And I knew she was off again. This time to Spain to live in a hotel with a pool.
Where she could swim and ride bikes and sing with a scarf and play chess on the balcony.
And best of all, she could live all winter for what it would cost her for the gas bill
back at home!

by Entropy
The §purious Collective

Dad’s Shed – NaPoWriMo
Apr 3rd, 2010 by Entropy

Dad’s Shed

Your footprints rest
in sawdust on the floor, with
the last curls that drifted from your plane
as rasping breaths of seasoned oak
punctuated
that tune you always hummed.

Beside a tea-encrusted mug,
the muffled sobs
of a discarded hammer
are answered by the whimpers
of its outline on the wall.
A brush, stiff with paint
waves from a jamjar
as it drowns, my tears
wet the sleeve
of your workcoat,
the ball of twine
whines from your pocket
as I quietly
lock the door.

by Entropy
The §purious Collective

Poem: Writer’s blog block
Feb 2nd, 2010 by Entropy

I need to write a poem for my blog
But I can’t see the words through the fog
I stare at the screen
Just wanting to scream
I type: Stuff it! I’m off for a jog.

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