Tagged: Poetry

My Mummy

On Monday I decided to get the boys to write a poem about their mummy as a test. I made each of them answer questions and then we compiled that into verse. To be honest it was a bit of fun to keep them amused. It was just as much fun for me. I did most of the compilation but almost all the words are theirs, and certainly all the imagery.

Enjoy:

My Mummy

by Ben, Elliott and Asher

My mummy is a nice grass,
A love that is good
With arms and legs.

Her hair is like candy floss
Twisting,
Paper filled with naughty words.

Her eyes are hazelnuts
They can see fear.
They play a game.

Mummies nose is a cone,
With dinosaur’s nostrils.
Or a big fat poo,
A towel,
Made for glasses.

Her mouth is a lipstick’s stick,
Of fiery breath,
That shouts all quiet.

Her ears just hear my voice,
Like a giraffe
Always listening.

She has legs that I don’t know,
Filled with muscles,
And with bones,
An organ wraps around them,
Right down to the toes,
As they came last.

Her arms are like her legs,
But they put things into cups,
Press buttons,
And create.

Mummies brain is the best.
Very, very, smart.
Is for talking just like me,
Is numbers
And a game pad.

But her love is so pretty,
And very, very, strong.
She loves Asher, maybe also…
Daddy,
Elliott,
And Ben.
Simply, all of us.

A Birthday Poem – Just Another Day

Just Another Day

Today is just a day,
just like any other day,
just like any other time,
could be any other place.

Just another day.

You know this is your day,
and I’m just waiting here,
letting sorrow form and swell,
how hollow is the chest
that dwells?

I am holding onto tears,
beats thinking of the loss,
that I must shoulder on…
there I go,
feeling sorry for myself.
fuck it…

Just another day

No nearby grave for me to wail upon,
I cannot stand on the shore,
near to the dank earth that cocoons your ashes,
not the time to spend that pain,
to let my thoughts suppurate.

Just another day

An age has torn my memories apart,
each moment a thief steals a little more
sucked into a vomit of confusion,
fading to phantoms.

We become jolly fucking spectres,
half remembered dreams or wishes,
lost futures,
regrets that passed.

Just another day

I see you in photographs,
but the heart only knows your touch.

Just another day

In brief moments I see your face,
in the crowd,
your figure,
your gait,
but they are strangers,
it’s a stolen wish.

Just another day

Time passes,
day by day,
things submerge,
aches shrouded in layers,
I think of you,
my life can’t bear the loss,
So I bury you again,
day by day.

Just another day,
could be any other day,
just a birthday.

Notes

My best friend, probably the only person who rivals my wife in terms of how they have utterly changed me passed away last year. She would have been 47 this year. I still miss her. I still have so much to say to her.

Jane loved almost everything I ever wrote. It was a a tradition when i was at college and university that I would write a poem for my friends on their birthdays. Mostly silly stuff (I’m a terrible poet IMOO), but I would write them. People liked them.

I stopped doing it when Leigh wrote one for my birthday that was an epic, and one of my most treasured possessions (now matched by mini-voodoo-woollen me).

This year it came back. Because that’s how I feel. I miss my friend. I think I had one of the greatest platonic love affairs in history. I loved her deeply as a friend, a mentor, a guide and like a child, a sister or a parent. She was all that to me. She was a guiding force of morality, kindness and thought. She utterly changed everyone she touched and I will never stop missing her.

Specific memories fade. But the effect will not.

I miss you Jane. I miss my friend. Happy Birthday.

Rejected Lines

1.

Just another day,
could be any kind of day,
was just your birth day,
(but you had gone away,
you could never stay,
lost into the fray…),

2.

for shits and giggles easy rhymes say living all the fears,

Related Posts:

Doughnut, A Eulogy in Two Parts – Fit The First

Doughnut, A Eulogy in Two Parts – Fit the Second

Ere I am J.H.

 

Beat’-en Track

a sort-of beat poem

Slung out and sleep deprived,
We thrive,
On black gold brewed
by a child with a smile.

Corporate America we’re drifting through
like atoms without cause
or meaning to
reach some destination,
of no relation.

A pair of people,
who care,
prepare the location,
somewhere,
that we’re drifting toward,
assured,
that we travel closer.

Home and hearts entwined,
with sense unwind
the road we travel on,
too long gone,
But not as one.

Vampire Poem for Leigh

So, Leigh has been complaining in her writing challenges (see her posts here: http://www.leighkeating.me/) that she can’t do the poetry writing part of the challenge as well, or as easily, as she does the other challenges. It also seems to annoy her that I can write poems (fairly poor ones let’s face it) at speed. In fact if the requirement is for bad, sad or mad poems, I’m your man. This latest one was written in 8 minutes while waiting for a train at Preston railway station. It is from the Vampire Week Challenge (Diary Challenge: 24th-30th Jan 2011).

I should note that the challenge was to write a poem from a Vampire’s perspective, and that I take no responsibility for you cringing at any of the words I use in this poem, I already know the quality, i wrote it 🙂

Easy Prey

Diana calls me.
I am the Huntresses’ slave.
She holds aloft the night,
And pulls me from my grave.
Well, at least that’s what I tell the girls,
To get them to behave.

So simple are these pithy words,
That bring me my delight,
I tell them of my lonely life,
Where sorrow is my plight,
And then I take them to their bed
To feed all through the night.

Born in darkness, wreathed in sin,
Come hear my words of pain,
Then loosen bodice and open thighs
You need not have your shame.
While you dream of love you’ll place in my dark heart
All your blood I’ll drain.