Tag Archives: poem

100 Word Challenge – Common

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100 Word Challenge – Common

This was a challenge to write exactly 100 words either using the word common,  or any form of the word, as one of the 100, or using common as a prompt and implying it in the 100 words.  I have written this poem using common as the title.  It is based on someone’s reaction to my presence at an event a long time ago.

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Common

No knew more than me
That I didn’t belong here
That I was in the wrong place
That a terrible mistake had been made

No-one wanted me away from here
More than me myself
No-one wanted me to disappear more than me
As distrusting eyes followed me around the room
Furious

He looked at me and said
Well she is a bit common
Like I wasn’t even there
Like I couldn’t hear his
Sneer or see his curled lip
As he glanced at me like the
Underside of his shoe
After he’d stepped in something
Unpleasant
Like his face

Copyright, D M Day, 2017

GloPoWriMo: Day 11

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GloPoWriMo: Day 11

The Day 11 prompt was to write a Bop.  The invention of poet Afaa Michael Weaver, the Bop is a kind of combination sonnet and song.  Like a Shakespearean sonnet, it introduces, discusses, and then solves (or fails to solve) a problem.  Like a song, it relies on refrains and repetition.  In the basic Bop poem, a six-line stanza introduces the problem, and is followed by a one-line refrain. The next, eight-line stanza discusses and develops the problem, and is again followed by the one-line refrain. Then, another six-line stanza resolves or concludes the problem, and is again followed by the refrain.  My poem features a problem familiar to many people – albeit maybe not literally – being stuck in a small dark place with nowhere to turn.

The End?

I woke up in the blackest darkness
Felt myself bumping along
Tried to sit up and smashed my head
On a ceiling so close, far too close
To be safe in my bedroom
Safe and sound inside my house

This can’t be the end, can it?

I notice I can’t move in any direction
Another bump and I realise I am moving
I must be inside a vehicle, in the boot of a car!
Then I remember when they turned up at the house
Menacing, threatening, saying they would deal with me
Now once and for all. This was going to end
One way or another. They grabbed me, then darkness
Oh God, they’re going to kill me!

This can’t be the end, can it?

I glance over what I have written and sigh
It’s tending towards melodramatic and predictable
Don’t comfort me, it’s what you were thinking
Maybe I wasn’t meant to write thrillers
Maybe I wasn’t meant to be a writer at all
I select every word and hit the delete key

This can’t be the end, can it?

Copyright, D M Day, 2017

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GloPoWriMo: Day 7

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GloPoWriMo: Day 7

The Day 7 prompt was to write a poem about luck and fortuitousness.  Inspiration included Charles Simic’s “The Betrothal” and Stephen Dunn’s “The Arm”. First of all I needed to create the following lists:

1. List 1 – 3 random objects. (Smaller tends to be better.)
2. List 1 – 3 random but specific locations. (Think in the cookie jar, or under my seat…)
3. List 1 – 2 objects you’ve lost and a few notes on their back-story.
4. List 1- 2 objects you’ve found and few notes on their back-story.

Then I needed to choose an object from List 1, a location from List 2, and connect them in a poem with ideas from Lists 3 & 4.  Here are my lists:

Random objects:
1.   Teacup
2.   Penny
3.   Candle

Random locations:
1.   In front of the kitchen sink
2.   In the wardrobe
3.   The fireplace

Things I’ve lost:
1.  Stories I wrote as a child – I’ve been writing almost as long as I can remember and wish I had those first scribblings
2.   Books – So many people have borrowed my books and not returned them, I don’t lend them out any more

Things I’ve found:
1.   A colleague’s wedding ring – I noticed a glint on the office floor.  It was his wedding ring and it had been squashed flat!
2.   A stranger’s bank card on the bus – She was on her way to buy her kids’ school uniforms so was very grateful I saw it

And somehow out of these lists came this little story, which is sort of about good luck!

 

The Teacup in the Fireplace

The teacup in the fireplace
In my great aunt’s house
Is almost hidden from view
By books
My great aunt’s house is full of books
So many books
My house
It’s my house now
She left it to me
Much to the disgust of everyone
I love books
I’ve written my own stories since I was a small child
I wish I had those first scribblings
I wish I had finished something
Maybe even had it published
Had a book
With my own name on
To put amongst the many books
In my great aunt’s house
She told me once that so many people
Had borrowed her books
And never returned them
That she didn’t lend them out any more
She didn’t let anyone in any more
To be here
With her
And her books
She just stayed alone
Drinking tea out of
The teacup in the fireplace
I see a glint on the floor
It’s my great aunt’s wedding ring
It must have fallen off
When she left
That last time
It has been squashed flat
Broken
Ruined
Like my great aunt
I walk over to the fireplace
The teacup in the fireplace
Is chipped
And coated in fine cracks
Like my great aunt
I hold the delicate china
And let it drop
It’s bad luck to hold onto negativity
And that cup was filled with it
I turn away from the fireplace
And throw the windows and door open
Letting the world come in
Letting the sunlight wander
Amongst the many books
In my great aunt’s house

Copyright, D M Day, 2017

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GloPoWriMo: Day 2

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GloPoWriMo: Day 2

The Day 2 prompt was to write a poem inspired by, or in the form of, a recipe.  It could be a recipe for something real, like Grandma’s lemon chiffon cake, or for something imaginary, like a love potion or a spell.  I struggled for a while to think of something for this one, toying with the idea of doing something for Yorkshire pudding, but then not wanting to give away my family’s recipe for it!  In the end, I decided to do a humourous cake recipe, dedicated to everyone who will never quite make it on to the Great British Bake Off.  And just so you know, I made the cake in the picture, but the story in the poem is completely made up.

 

The Perfect Cake for the One You Love

Step 1: Preparation
Log on computer
Open Pinterest
To search for recipe
Look at and pin
Pictures of cute outfits and cats
Remember the cake
Search for recipes

Step 2: Mix it up
Narrow down search
So that pictures of
Roasted lamb and sparkly nails
Disappear and only cakes are left
Find something you like
Wow that looks complicated
Type easy before cake in search

Step 3: Stir well
Easy cake recipe found
Pin to board and screenshot
For ease of reference
Go through kitchen cupboards
To see what you already have
Nothing, to the shops then
For ingredients, and a cake tin

Step 4: Almost done
Arrive home from shops
Unpack everything and get organised
Curse yourself for buying plain flour
Remember you can fix it with baking powder
Or is it bicarbonate of soda
Argh, better put both in
Just to be on the safe side

Step 5: Bake
Put cake into oven
Realise it’s cold
Turn oven on
Set the timer for an extra ten minutes
To make up for not pre-heating
Go into living room
To relax while it’s baking

Step 6: Cool
Wake up to sounds of
Smoke alarm and crappy film
On Netflix that sent you to sleep
Run into kitchen opening all windows
En route frantically
And hoping that the grumpy
Neighbours upstairs haven’t noticed

Step 7: Decorate
Burn hand removing burnt
Mess from smoking oven
Sigh, bite right thumbnail
Think it can’t be so bad
Taste a tiny little bit
Realise even your burnt tongue
Knows that this tastes bad

Step 8: Cut
Ring Mum and ask her
How quickly she can bake
And bring you a cake

Serve with your favourite alcohol
With or without ice
As desired

                                                              

Copyright, D M Day, 2017

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Put an X in the Box!

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Put an X in the Box!

It’s all getting a bit political!

Whatever happens now, this time next week, we’re going to live in a different world.  Obviously, being British, I don’t have any say in what happens over the pond, but distracting myself with poetry anyway.

Enjoy!

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Put an X in the box

Put an X in the box
It’s your right to decide
In what kind of a world
You want to reside

Put an X in the box
And tell us all
Whether to the left or the right
You want to fall

Put an X in the box
You know enough now
To make this decision
Without asking how

Put an X in the box
For your sick grandmother
Your unborn children
Pick one or the other

Put an X in the box
It’s vital you do
Or who knows what will happen
To me and to you

Put an X in the box
It’s your right to a say
If you don’t pick one
We’re all going to pay

Put an X in the box
It’s your right to complain
When everything goes wrong
Again

Copyright, D M Day, 2016

The Routine

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The Routine

Commuting is a pain.  Crowded trains, delays, the time spent doing it even when things are running on time and, of course, the money.  The journey from my house to my office is approximately 150 miles.  It’s very expensive and it isn’t fun.  Luckily for me I won’t be doing it for much longer.

One day this summer it was particularly warm, and the train was particularly crowded.  As the train filled up and the people who’d taken advantage of the sunny afternoon staggered about and a couple of them fell over bookworm brain got to thinking of Madame Bovary.  Her unhappiness with routine and need for something less ordinary becomes a little tiresome in the novel, but what would happen if she was dropped into our world, onto a commuter train going to the same place and doing the same thing day in, day out.

“She wanted to die, but she also wanted to [commute to] Paris.”

This poem is for her and, of course, Gustave.

The Routine

Every morning I stand on the train
Face pressed into a stranger’s armpit
Too hot
And late, every day

Every day I say good morning
To everyone I pass
How are you?
Fine thanks you?
You’re late, every day

Every time my coffee is cold
Made by my assistant
For the time I should have arrived
Milky clouds floating in the top
Swirling circles, every day

Every email is pointless
The to do list looks the same
I’ve never understood the term dead end job
This is a roundabout
Going in circles every day

Oh to be someone else
Somewhere else
Something else
Anywhere else
Anything else

Why must life be so tedious?

What a wonderful thing it would be
To live a different life
A different life
Every single day

Copyright, D M Day, 2016

Summer Chill

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Summer Chill

Summer is coming to an end, allegedly.  In reality, today has been red hot and sunny.  But that’s the British summer.  We have sunny days and we have rainy days and eventually it all fizzles out and it’s time for bonfires and fireworks.  This is a poem dedicated to the highs and lows of the Great British summer, and the beginning of autumn, whenever that may be.  Enjoy the weather, whatever you’re getting!

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Summer Chill

Blue skies
Grey skies
Sunshine
Rainstorms
Beautiful flowers
Watery eyes
Smoking barbecues
Flies attacking
Pollen’s up
Beer’s down

Long days
Short nights

Then suddenly

Kids are back at school
Rain falls every day
Pumpkins fill shop shelves
Fallen leaves litter the street

Summer is a memory
Summer is a craving
Something remembered
Something desired
Never forgotten
Never fulfilled

Copyright D M Day, 2016