National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!

[indar]

April 26

AOL News

Two featured stories:

thousands of Emperor penguin chicks
wiped out in the antarctic

and

some starlet I've never heard 
of stuns on the red carpet 

in a see-through dress.
 

[Gyppo]

Deb, I believe your Overview Effect is your best offering so far.

Indar, dying penguins and nameless starlets,  Short but telling.

=====

I need an early night tonight and tomorrow may be rather busy, so I'm posting tomorrow's early.  But I am sticking to writing one a day.

Gyppo

=====

Napo 27 - 2019

That other 'Gyppo'

There is another Gyppo out there.
He lives in a parallel universe, 
rather similar to mine,
but he's a little less organised
and far more sneaky.

Which, to be fair, takes some doing.

He has also found a portal,
possibly no bigger than a cat flap,
between our two worlds.
When he can't be bothered with 'stuff'
he slides it through into my world.

It looks familiar so I don't notice at first
and he knows when I'm pre-occupied.

He often strikes when I'm writing,
but in April he really takes the piss.
That's when he 'borrows' my stuff.

I have eleven teaspoons in my drawer,
and they're all gone.
I'm down to the last of four butter knives,
and there's only two plates left in the rack.

I know I didn't leave them piled in the sink
in mucky cold grey water,
or stacked on the draining board
with stiff dried curry around the bowls.
Twenty four hours is my limit,
usually much less.

So it must have been the other Gyppo, 
using my stuff and returning it unwashed,
thinking a dreamy poet won't notice.

But I do.  And enough is enough.

So I will find that portal, oh yes I will. 
Imagination has its uses.

Then later this year, when he's away, 
taking in the three day Game Fair,
(because all poachers visit the game fair,
rubbing shoulders with the keepers
in green wellies and waxed jackets,
checking out the latest security tricks),
I'll fill his sink, and his washing machine.

That'll teach him a lesson.

Then maybe we'll nail the portal shut,
each from his own side.

Gyppo

[Colm Roe]

30 ways to die.
#27

Sometimes
while deeply absorbed
I inadvertently realise I'm at peace,  
I listen
and wonder if I'm still alive,
can't feel my chest's rise and fall.

Mouth closed, no air appears to pass
in our out of my nose,
my breaths so shallow 
I must be recycling  
dead air spaces.

So unaware of my body
I could leave
in those moments of distraction,
close my eyes,
and without a care
just switch myself
off.











 

[Gyppo]

Nice one, Colm.

A grand description of those 'still' moments.

Thinking about it, if breathing wasn't an autonomous reflex, I suspect most creative types would die young whilst deeply preoccupied

Gyppo 

[Deb]

Forgotten

When exhausted people
move households 
in the dark 
or multiple cartons at once,
things will misplace themselves 
to resurface months later, in ruins. 

Crated and labeled, 
“IMPORTANT! PLEASE PUT THIS BOX IN THE HOUSE!” 
carelessly left outside 
beneath inadequate coverage
come what may, 
from May one year 
until to June, the next.

You choke on the rancid taste 
of sickening absoluteness 
when something in your care
is found beyond repair. 

Remnants of rare books,
no longer in print, 
once prized family treasures,  
handed over for safekeeping
by relatives that held dear 
the previous owners, 
cherished their signatures, 
notes, and the fact, 
he held this and read these very words…
their tethers and yours, now broken.

The books, the grantors, 
the cherished loved ones,
and all hope of absolution
irretrievable for the remainder of time.

The expectation of salvation ceases to carry validity.
These Memories will not return 
without reminders - 
is an exquisitely painful reality. 

~Deb

[ajduclos]

Great stuff, Gyppo - you took my selves for quite a ride

Colm - quiet and in control, observing... wonderful

Indar - so much is so few words...........

Deb - WOW - "misplace themselves" - "choke on the rancid taste of sickening absoluteness" - "their tethers and yours, now broken" - "all hope of absolution" - "an exquisitely painful reality".  So beautifully written and speaks volumes, tender and final. 

[Lecram06]

Triolet 27

She visions a new fence and gate.
I squint, see the checkbook empty.
She feels my glare a sign of hate.
She visions a new fence and gate. 
She comforts her heart's fear of hate.
I soften a regretting sorry.
She visions a new fence and gate.
I squint, see the checkbook empty.

[Lecram06]

Deb, I believe your Overview Effect is your best offering so far.

Indar, dying penguins and nameless starlets,  Short but telling.

=====

I need an early night tonight and tomorrow may be rather busy, so I'm posting tomorrow's early.  But I am sticking to writing one a day.

Gyppo

=====

Napo 27 - 2019

That other 'Gyppo'

There is another Gyppo out there.
He lives in a parallel universe, 
rather similar to mine,
but he's a little less organised
and far more sneaky.

Which, to be fair, takes some doing.

He has also found a portal,
possibly no bigger than a cat flap,
between our two worlds.
When he can't be bothered with 'stuff'
he slides it through into my world.

It looks familiar so I don't notice at first
and he knows when I'm pre-occupied.

He often strikes when I'm writing,
but in April he really takes the piss.
That's when he 'borrows' my stuff.

I have eleven teaspoons in my drawer,
and they're all gone.
I'm down the last of four butter knives,
and there's only two plates left in the rack.

I know I didn't leave them piled in the sink
in mucky cold grey water,
or stacked on the draining board
with stiff dried curry around the bowls.
Twenty four hours is my limit,
usually much less.

So it must have been the other Gyppo, 
using my stuff and returning it unwashed,
thinking a dreamy poet won't notice.

But I do.  And enough is enough.

So I will find that portal, oh yes I will. 
Imagination has its uses.

Then later this year, when he's away, 
taking in the three day Game Fair,
(because all poachers visit the game fair,
rubbing shoulders with the keepers
in green wellies and waxed jackets,
checking out the latest security tricks),
I'll fill his sink, and his washing machine.

That'll teach him a lesson.

Then maybe we'll nail the portal shut,
each from his own side.

Gyppo

Gyppo,

I am always drawn to poems that show rather than tell. So much more powerful, realistic and humble. Don't nail the portl shut. marcel
 

[Lecram06]

30 ways to die.
#27

Sometimes
while deeply absorbed
I inadvertently realise I'm at peace,  
I listen
and wonder if I'm still alive,
can't feel my chest's rise and fall.

Mouth closed, no air appears to pass
in our out of my nose,
my breaths so shallow 
I must be recycling  
dead air spaces.

So unaware of my body
I could leave
in those moments of distraction,
close my eyes,
and without a care
just switch myself
off.











 

Colm, The line breaks chisel this diamond into brilliance. You speak for the mystic in all of us.
The last stanza offers a lifelong meditation. thanks you. Marcel
 

[indar]

April 27

Praying Mantis Have Darling Faces

heart-shaped with big, wide-set eyes.
Designers of extraterrestrials for the movie
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
must have had the mantis face in mind.

Like creatures from outer space,
mantis are Kelly green, they keep
their tiny hands folded before them
saying grace, hence the name.

A female mantis chews the head
off her boyfriend after mating,
we must assume she has her reasons,
she can snatch a hummingbird

out of the air mid-flight for dinner,
eat it raw and pick her teeth 
with a flight feather, then go
in search of a garter snake for dessert.

Mantis are not otherworldly, they are
part of the miraculous web of life on earth,
they live in our forests, carefully preserved
nature center, our back yards,
look for them, they have darling faces.