Tag: Poetry

Letting Go

The possibility of letting go

Is not there for the few

It’s a viable road to peace

Something we can do

Transcend the pain

Of anger and rage

Take tentative steps

Out of the cage

Letting go is within our grasp

Resentment, rejection, dejection – alert!

They all come under the heading of hurt

Forgiveness is possible

You don’t have to budge

Remember to protect yourself

But don’t hold a grudge

As grudges have a way

Like a scorpions sting

Of turning right round

And clipping out wings

Letting go, you know

It’s good for our health

And may even provide

A spiritual wealth

Letting go of fools gladly

A willow that bends

Will help with our progress

And knit us to mend

Remember the energy

Through them, that we lost

A cliche, but still

Remember the cost

Time to get rid of the debris in tow

Dump it into the dustbin

Labelled – Letting Go

There was a horrible face at the window

There was a horrible face at the window

It was a face of enormous self doubt

It said, ‘I’m getting married tomorrow

Will my beloved be going without?’

I said, ‘Explain, please do. I’m confused.’

They said, ‘Woe is me. I’m lost. All at sea.

I’m afraid I don’t have the heart

And for their heart, I don’t have the key.’

‘It’s okay, I see what’s going on here.

Come in and take a seat

It’s all a storm in a teacup

I think you’re just getting cold feet.’

They said, ‘I can’t see the future too clearly.

I think I won’t be much good

What if the marriage is all a disaster

And my love is simply a dud?’

‘Your fears are all an illusion

Care not,’ I said, ‘Do not afear.

Your marriage will be a long and good one

I tell you-your cupid is here.’

They said, ‘You don’t understand, I’ve lost the ring!’

‘Oh, so that’s why you’re so low!’

They said, ‘Yes, and it cost a fortune.

They’ll be mad, I am sure, I’ll just go!’

‘No, don’t go in haste, I’ve a plan

Take this bracelet and bend it just so

It’s just tin and worth nothing at all

But if they love you, they won’t say no.’

So they went away and tested the theory

And got married, the horrible face did

And they were happy, ever after, from then on

And we both kept the secret quite hid

From this day, they are so blissful

They never found the ring though

But whenever they come to visit

There’s a beautiful face at the window.

There’s No Time Like The Present

There’s no time like the present

Present means gift

It’s now or never, it’s here somehow

But it always goes adrift

The gift of where we are right now

Is staring us in the face

Right where we stand, this second

Right here, in this place

Well…it was here a second ago

But now it’s out of date

Oh, hang on, it’s coming up again…

All we have to do is wait

Ah, but now it’s the future

And still it won’t last

And as I’ve been writing

It’s become the past

Live in the present

Because it’s gone

In the blink of an eye

There are many presents to open

Many ribbons to untie

See how precious it is

Like a jewelled crown

It’s like a butterfly

Except it can’t be pinned down

So enjoy this moment, this hour, this day

And keep your presence

Close to the present

Before it flies away.

March To The Beat Of Your Own Drum

The orchestra will try to make you

Change your tune

You don’t have to keep in time

Or even be heard

Above the cacophony

As long as you hear your own music

Feel the rhythm

Love the style

And enjoy the way

It makes you feel

The artistic director may try to

Turn you around

Conduct you

And make you toe the line

Find musicians more to your liking

Ones that share the same tempo

And can keep in time to your beat

As you keep in time with theirs

And let you do a solo now and then

Make and play the sort of music

That allows you to change key

Without warning

It has to be that way

Or, all your life

You’ll be out of tune.

It Started Out Like Any Other Day

It started out

With the same theme

Like any other day

Old routine

Long time

Stuck in the sack

They’re having fun

I’m out of whack

While cocooned

Had strange dreams

Chewing leaves

Anything green

I was running away

From a bird on my case

Dived into undergrowth

To get it out of my face

Ate my way through

The neighbours hedge

Flower patch

Gouged on veg

Addicted to grass

Tried to ease

Desperate craving

For garden peas

Exhausted then

Fell asleep

Hairy legs

Belly deep

The neighbourhood cried

Here comes trouble

I yawned and stretched

And burst from the bubble

It started out

With the same theme

Like any other day

Old routine

But life became

A permanent high

When I emerged

A butterfly.

Libraries Week

Last week was Libraries Week and I was invited to celebrate at Live Poets ‘15 Progressive Poetry Years’ party at Blackpool Central Library on Friday. They were having a Poetry Party with poetry readings, mocktails and cake.

They were also celebrating National Poetry Day with a limerick competition and a prize giving ceremony for the best three limericks.

I entered the competition and didn’t think anymore about it, until I received a phone call from a very nice lady informing me that my poem was in the top three selected winners and would I be available to come to the party? I was already going, so that wasn’t a problem and she said what an added bonus it was. I agreed.

When I got there, the three winners were called up on stage and had to read out their poem. Third prize was called out, a beautiful poem read by Steven, or Stephen, but me and Thelma insisted it be read out again because me and Thelma didn’t hear it. (Well, I’m hard of hearing, not sure about Thelma. I linked arms with Thelma and I think we’ve bonded, through fear) Second prize by Thelma, again, lovely poem. I was mortified by this time. Can’t tell you how embarressed I felt. I have social anxiety, so this was painful. It shouldn’t have been, but it was.

So I discovered that I won first prize in this poetry competition. It was only a local thing but it was a nice surprise, or rather shock.

The theme was Change, which was also the theme of this years National Poetry Day but also, I believe it was about putting a positive slant on change and at the same time following the structure of a limerick. Beforehand,  I did a bit of research and discovered that it doesn’t have to be, ‘There was an old man from wherever…’

So here is my poem

Change

Change can be a good thing

It’s a bit like a song that you sing

The tune never ends

It turns and it bends

And there’s so much joy it can bring

 

I don’t like change and struggle against it at every opportunity and I thought, I have to change. I have to embrace change. I have discovered to my cost, that resisting change is not only traumatic but also destructive. So I decided to be positive, for once. Just being positive, forcing myself to be positive, brings positive changes.  If you act a certain way, you become it.

‘At Live Poets, we encourage writng skills. Just bring biros, PC’s or quills. Monday plans rearrange – And join us for a change- Pioneering – Poetry fulfils!’

The poetry and writing group are having a positive impact in my life, even though I’ve only been going for a few months.  It’s great meeting other creative people. That’s what I love about word press and the blogging world too. It’s very inspiring.

I also think it’s wonderful that Blackpool Library, in connection with Blackpool Council, are supporting, inspiring and encouraging creative people in the community with these events.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Pixie Boots

At my local Writers Group, part of the session involves an improvised writing exercise. We are given a writing prompt and then we have approximately ten minutes to write something and then have to read it out. Last time, we had to write a poem or story on boots or shoes, that were important to us in some way.  I’m in awe of people who can write improvised poems, or indeed any creative writing that is ‘off the cuff’ and under pressure. Also, people who can just take out a notepad on the bus and start writing. I normally need a good comfort zone and lots of time to write, with no time limits or restrictions. I’ve done improv acting but never impro writing, until lately. I’m learning in that sphere and it’s interesting. Didn’t know I had it in me to be spontaneous.  It’s scary but I think practice is the key.  If you keep doing something, you get better at it and one day, hopefully, it’s not scary at all. So here’s an impro writing exercise I did on boots. My first ever impro poem!

 

Pixie Boots

I am but a thimbleful

I roam in strange hours

I sip from buttercups

And abseil from flowers

I climb to the top

Of the ivy on the wall

There’s not many pixies

Who can do that at all

I saddle a slug

And we ride the soil

Jump over cabbages

It’s not much of a toil

I’ve not lost a feather

I’m full of spice and pep

My pixie boots

Have lots of mileage yet

And when the sun is tired

And I feel sleepy too

I snuggle in the moss

And say goodnight to you.