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Archive for May, 2016

Day 5: Time for an ekphrastic poetry prompt. Write a poem in response to Grayson Perry’s ‘Vote Alan Measles for God’. I researched the artist and learned that he created a fantasy life involving his teddy bear who became something of a “father-figure”.

Alan Measles

He sits on the end of my bed

Innocently inanimate by day.

Floppy limbed and softly napped.

Eyes embroidered and unseeing.

 

But night.

The house is quiet.

And dark.

 

Alan Measles awakes.

Eyes open and glaring red

Slashing teeth snapping at the dark air.

I look out from under the covers and he’s standing in front of my face

So close I can feel the heat from his fur.

His claws flash past my cheek and I think I can feel a scratch

Think I can feel a trickle of blood

But I daren’t move to feel it.

I can see something grasped in his fist.

Metal. Glass. A needle. A plunger.

He moves closer, waving the syringe menacingly.

Ready to inject me with its horrific virus.

Ready to infect me with the appalling life threatening disease of adulthood.

I clutch the sheets tighter.

 

I begin to whimper.

I don’t want to grow up.

Not yet.

 

Morning comes.

He sits on the end of my bed.

Floppy limbed and softly napped.

Eyes embroidered but all-seeing.

 

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Poem A Day May: Day 4
Write a poem from the point of view of a favourite character from a film or book.
(A lighthearted draft)

The Edge of Reason

Do NOT snigger as I totter
past on vertiginous heels that threaten
to topple me
chest first onto the floor.
They may be more Brantano than Louboutin
But they still make my calves look slim…ish.

This morning I washed my own hair
I didn’t get it “done” into cappucino
and crème caramel waves.
I’m more Superdrug than Oribe
I’m more curly frizz than sleek tresses
But it still smells of papaya and coconut.

You may know all about contouring
while I have only just learned to use blusher
in subtle shades
and suck in my cheeks while I do it
I may use more No.7 than La Mere
But I’m still wrinkle-free…mostly

You’re all Chanel and I’m more Dorothy Perkins
I’m more M&S than Agent Provocateur
But don’t look down your
rhinoplasticised nose at me
YOU may think that
you epitomise cool and that I epitomise lukewarm
But…Mark Darcy loves ME!

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Fib is an experimental Western poetry form, bearing similarities to haiku, but based on the Fibonacci Sequence. Write a poem that follows the Fibonacci sequence.  My poem follows the sequence thus: 1/1/2/3/5/8/13/8/5/3/2/1/1

‘The Sea’

hush

sea

waves hiss

swell and flow

backwards now forwards

sea spittle soaking into sand

depositing rubber strips of salty mermaid’s purse

coiled wetly on their gritty bed

teased again by waves

forwards now backwards

ebb and flow

sand shifts

sea

shore

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Day 2: Use 6 random words and incorporate them into a 12 line poem

Tree House

I like to watch the world
Gaping through sliver cracks at the world below.
Always the same place.
Scramble up the tree bent over like an old man
Old man bark-skin scrapes young soft knee-skin.
I’m helpless to stop it so suck sharp breath through tightened lips.
Here.
My fingers clutch the still sticky wood as I drag myself through.
Walls gleam solid and true after four loving coats of varnish
Pure golden syrup.
Not yet sweet. Yet a sweet death for an inquisitive bug.
Stuck.

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Short (definitely),  creative (hopefully) bursts in response to given prompts.

Day 1:
‘Waiting’

I press my hand onto
the cool glass
Warm skin leaves a misty outline –
The breath of angels.
I watch it fade.

A cold, wet droplet
hangs swollen
Then trickles downwards –
The tears of angels.
I watch it flow.

I look past the tear-splattered glass
Gaze through mist at sodden trees.
Drip. Drip.
I sigh.
My dog sighs.
We want to explore but
We’re waiting for the rain to stop.

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