Moribund (5 of 365)

Moribund defined as "as a person on the edge of death"

Welcome to day 5 (posted cheekily on day 6)

Moribund

Red stained 

Yellow glow 

Stone grey

Rigormortis  

Trifle, a momentary (6 of 365)

Here is the sixth poem in the daily poem for a year challenge I've set myself.

 it is an interesting process posting each day, it stretches your brain and in this case I think has amounted to something quite ordinary, but I'm determined to stick to this.

It's funny how the poem below reflects my rather middling performance today at work haha, but that is another story. Happy reading, thank you all for sharing in my indulgence :)

We will see how this unfolds in the coming days, weeks and months.

Today's word "oblique" meaning slanted or crooked.

Trifle, a momentary 

Said I to Mr Sparrow

"Please assure me tomorrow will be good"

Sparrow chuckled in that rectangular way, "Nonsense chum, scrape the bucket old bean"

I despaired at the limits of my imagination that I had somehow conjured this poorly engineered creature 

Said he then, "Jolly good sire" making sure to strike the whiskers beneath his bowlers cap, they were bristled and with his bulging eyes 

It reminded me of a cat I used to know 

"Toodle pip" he said hastening me away from caricature assassination 

Inanity space filler 

Twisted oblique?

I sighed again 

Time to erase this archaic archetype from my mind

The gargantuan folds of his pants are still so easy to imagine.

Focus (4 of 365)

In an effort to post more regularly, I have decided to set myself a challenge.

Three basic rules:

1. 1 poem a day (for the next year);

2. At least one word I am unfamiliar with to incorporate into each poem; and 

3. Every 7 days incorporate some type of structured poem (as opposed to free verse).

Welcome to day 4!

Today's word erudite - meaning "having or showing great knowledge or learning."

Focus

Focus you erudite souls

Floating on limbs of possibility

Focus on forward motion

Focus on peace at hand 

It will come

Glowing vibrant 

Go forth 

Be iridescent 

Be effervescent

Your rise will burn fast

Like rocket fuel burns 

Until within earth's orbit 

The fuselage drops away

Leaving only darkness and

Bronze silent embers.

Focus on my eyes

Those blackhole spheres. 

Night sweats (3 of 365)

In an effort to post more regularly, I have decided to set myself a challenge.

Three basic rules:

1. 1 poem a day (for the next year);

2. At least one word I am unfamiliar with to incorporate into each poem; and 

3. Every 7 days incorporate some type of structured poem (as opposed to free verse).

Welcome to day 3!

Today's word detritus - meaning "waste or debris of any kind"

How my brain aches

I want to burn out the aching tissue

Until it's hollow and cold inside

Today I learned what true exertion was

I strode beyond the pale

I fell into it, the task at hand was obscured

Feeling along fumbling about like a frail 

Yet pathetic lapdog

I nodded at the correct times

Did as I was told

All this I did and I wrote it down

Oh parable of today

Oh Juxtaposition of pretension and fatigue 

Oh these long cold nights

Oh these boiling hot moments of tedium 

Sifting through words upon words

Until language is a vacant vehicle 

Perspiration on this detritus

My veins gilded to botrytis 

So sweet and dry

The point is though that I am 

Very tired and now it's time for me to rest

As much as night will allow.

Morning Glory (2 of 365)

In an effort to post more regularly, I have decided to set myself a challenge.

Three basic rules:

1. 1 poem a day (for the next year);

2. At least one word I am unfamiliar with to incorporate into each poem; and 

3. Every 7 days incorporate some type of structured poem (as opposed to free verse).

Welcome to day 2!

Morning Glory

The Feathers in my doonah

Sing love songs causing hot sweats through my veins

My midnight tongue slips in and out

Itching with supplication

For warm foreign skin

Unknown bronze ideal

Cream on my lips 

Exaggerated mouths  upon a youthful countenance

The sag of heavy pert breasts

Contribute to the heat of the goose down

The morning in its blandness

Forms it's colourful menagerie

In the engorged realm beneath my sheets

The flexible nature of her spine

The way it contracts presses together

The contours of her buttocks and chest and neck

Imaginary my nerves electrified by these phantasms

These are other

These heavenly shapes 

In my mind all consuming yet reductive

As I forge my own violent pornography 

Where I do not act

But watch her unfold and lay herself down upon me

All these thoughts intoxicating as perfume reside in me

She is invisible in my bland cream blasted world

I shut my eyes and drift 

As I feel the blood spurting down 

Tearing up my insides

Then finally release at the subtle image of hot pink lips

Who blow a hot pink kiss 

Dis-Affected (1 of 365)

In an effort to post more regularly, I have decided to set myself a challenge.

Three basic rules:

1. 1 poem a day (for the next year);

2. At least one word I am unfamiliar with to incorporate into each poem; and 

3. Every 7 days incorporate some type of structured poem (as opposed to free verse).

Disaffected

Morning comes along as it always does

My yawn drowns the fire bombings

The coffee stains on my counter

Ever present and the blood stains 

Being hurled at me senseless

Through that portal 

Through that mind-fuckery known only as television

I disinfect and bleach my clothes

My large XXL polo 

Ignoring the phone calls of all those nail biting charity dweebs

All of their sass and shallow promises

My front lawn groans under the agony of the mower 

It howls and shrieks just like a suicide bomber

Each yowling tendril of the thin green stalk snuffed out arbitrarily 

The way they do when the kids with guns go to town

Blow a few heads off like popping candy on their way to school

Cry for help 

Cry for attention

These are the beseeching prayers of the social media tyrants

The endless chain-links wheeling their way back through that vapid portal on our screens

Where the whitewashed camera and the powdered sets ring somehow true

Where the typical lads and lasses

With their faces put on for a hard days work

Revel in the simple wholesome 

Chores

I rake the dirt out of my floor

The sucking of the vacuum is violent

Meanwhile some pigheaded African despot rails on behind this or that podium in this or that country

Then there are the women and men with mouths and tongues flapping up and down trying to catch the real truth

The real story in it 

To tie it up in a bow

The ultimate tongue twister

I fix myself a glass of water

Watch the grit and mud that the fools in the alien planet through the television portal endure

Why? Is this real?

The video game firing squads shoot fake sounding pellets that smack their target that topples

Someone or something ancient 

The uncanny valley smiles upon me

This was so close to real

This was such good CGI

The frame rate of this real time strategic bombing

And the ultimate eye sore 

Those bleary tears and howls of the women and the children and the men

These strange skeletons beyond the portal

The hum of my microwave oven splatters red pasta sauce against the door

The spatter reminds me of a crime scene in my favourite drama show

I eat my vaporised radioactive pasta

I slurp each strand feeling the wobbly coils blast their way down my throat

Like torpedoes

Roiling down 

Imploding in the nuclear reactor of my intestines.

Letter to Pop

...the universe is different now
I'm sorry it had to change so
I'm sorry I can't understand you

What was that word?
That ancient verb...
to go and to do
We don't do
We can't
No

Your hands are like a trees
I can see the water in you
I can see the recycling system
of your blood
Grandpa, pop, do you get that?

I wrote you something
see
...you used to call them letters
You said they were things you folded
They were put on something...
Something you could touch
You wrote with... your own hands
hands how funny
What are they? --- I'm serious!

But you explained something to me...
You mentioned another funny word
Speak
you like to use that word
To pretend like you need to open your mouth
I really wish I could understand you Pop...
Like a fish, like a fish? --- they open their mouths
don't they?

You told me things were destined to change
Destiny --- it's not something you can touch
It's an idea isn't it? --- One of those right?
They used to have contraptions
To objects forward
...convey them...that's right conveyor belts --- that's the word!
Destiny is like that isn't it,..only there's no way off
You just keep along and then...does it end
Do you get packaged and sent off somewhere...

I know things were different...
They always are
I am sure they will be as well

You're the most interesting person I know...
did I tell you that Pop.
Sorry...I don't like to over affectionate
But that's why I prepared this thing for you
Call it a letter if you like
though you can't fold it.

Thank you. Thank you Pop.