Landscape

 

Theoretical Laboratory

Brilliant or pathetic? Neither? Both?

Humans, just figures in headlights and rear-view mirrors:

targets, possessions, poisons.

Trading familiarity for quantity,

no purpose, no own route,

no added aroma. 

Weighed down, heavy and hard as metal.

 

Design the new cycle –

Job? Serve, embrace, listen.

___

This is what I call fun! Although I ended up with a rather dystopian poem.

I would love to do this in the proper cut-words-our-of-newspapars way but I don’t have any at hand. Instead I used a book (no scissors were called into action). I bought this book about three years ago and is still pristine as the day it came home with me. It is called ‘Periodic Tales: The Curious Lives of the Elements‘ by Hugh Aldersay-Williams. And I have no idea why I haven’t read it yet. I don’t have an explanation.

 

 

 

Writing 201: Landscape

Drawer

 

I dream about you at night – 

about your secrets and treasures and lies 

I spy on you, I plan. 

 

The day I touched you,

caressed you, probed you the very first time –

the overwhelming desire to posses you  

has consumed my mind.

You act as nothing happened, unmoved 

hiding behind walls and locks.

Your silence mocking my efforts –

no squeak, no creak, not even whine

to my desperate break-in tries. 

My knees are chaffed, my fingers bleed

Oh how I wish to know where is your key. 

 

––––

Phew…I was really struggling with this one.

 

Writing 201: Drawer

Zero Tolerance to Loud Puffing, Huffing and Growling in the Gym

My gym is primarily visited by office people so there is not much huffing and puffing going on there. I don’t really know many bodybuilders with day jobs in banking. I don’t really know any bodybuilders full stop. I’ve only met one, actor Rob Archer and he is an absolute sweetheart.

Anyway, I’m not saying iron pumping is a synonym for making random lound scary sounds. It is more of the macho attitude that comes with it that I have a problem with. So when someone like that comes to my gym, he will get noticed. Dude, you’re not there alone.

What should be also noticed is the ongoing LGBT discrimination.

https://www.stonewall.org.uk/

.

And I couldn’t help it – crazy picture with Rob Archer 🙂

rob

 

Fingers

 

The earth is soft, dark and damp

ants clim over my mountainous fingers 

I feel a bite – I’m trespassing. 

I brush the soil, gently first,

but I can’t resist the urge.

My fist intrudes the cradle of life –

cold, kissed by the morning dew,

dirt hides behind my fingernails.

I dig deeper but the earth is fighting back

my fingers sting and burn and

I can’t stand the pain anymore.

I withdraw. 

My hand is red and black, the hand

that disturbs the earth. 

Earth is fighting back.

___

I was very torn whether or not to include a comment on this poem or not. Especially because instead of talking about the environmental crisis we are in and which I’ve tried to express in my poem – I actually wanted to mention fingers as tools for communication. I did a writing course few year back and there was a girl (whose name I don’t remember and it is driving me absolutely crazy) who was and I guess still is a puppeteer. She also was and I hope still is an amazingly talented poet. I loved her poems. I will never forget a line she wrote ‘my hand is a naked puppet’ and it was the first thing that popped in my head when I read the assignment for today. I’m sure you know someone who ‘talks with their hands’, use them to emphasise emotion and when you are in different country and don’t speak the language – how many times have you used the pointing technique? Fingers have their own voice – whether it is the official sign language or one that we use without even realising.

Writing: Fingers

I am a Hero!

I jumped on the busy train to Brighton

Gatwick airport – finally got seat

Mildly lost my way to hostel

But not too lost to hurt my feet

  

The bunk bed squeaked with every turn

Scared to move, just wished for sleep

My bed fellow’s and mine ears burned

Both nervous about  – BEEP BEEP BEEP

 

I was up at six, pretty ready if you ask

Changed into my running gear

Mind focussed to task

Made my porridge and my tea

 

The morning was frosty but sunny

And the Brighton beach serene

Crowds started to gather quickly

Soon the pens resembled sardines

 

Ten, nine, eight and so on till start

The elite sprinted – we not so much

Four minutes when we finally crossed the start

Off we went with James, our 2hours pacers lad

 

First mile, damn it’s crowded –

kept following the purple flag

Mile two and the ascend started

And didn’t finish till 4 and half

 

Narrow routes and elbows fights

Everyone wanted to go downhill fast

I said good bye to the pacer group

found a gap and zigzagged past

 

I chose my pace and stuck to it

Mile five, the gel was out

Mile six – almost half way there

Seventh came and went

 

I chose my pace and stuck to it

Except when the cold wind bit

My wind jacket’s bound too tight

Round my waist, had to stop to clear the mess

 

Mile eight I felt bit bored

Water station after ninth

Sipped and sucked another gel

Blackcurrant! What was I thinking?

 

Mile ten, just three too go

Mile eleven, almost home

Mile twelve when I saw the purple flag

So I sped up

 

Mile thirteen and my lugs now hurt

I could see the finish line

Few more steps and I’ll have my medal

Here I go – my first sub 2 half!

__

Ok, I admit I lost the ballad-y feel pretty early on and I am very much distracted and happy about my first sub two hours half marathon – that was yesterday 1:58:42 in Brighton so please forgive me 🙂

This is happy me 🙂

10924772_10152998549774404_1651087354445248396_n

Fog

 

I seek the sadness in the crowd of seven faces

I’m surprised by so many.

I stand inside this dead house honouring my father.

 

As a child I prayed every night

I asked God for forgiveness that only I could give

– but how do you forgive fear?

 

I stand inside this dead house sheltering my heart

colder than the frigid limbs hidden in the coffin

Maybe one day I will forgive

but not today. The dead body will not change it. 

Then I remember.

 

You are still alive. 

––––

Firstly, I have to leave a note to my sister – I am perfectly fine, I am happy, this little scribble is just something I have been working on for a while and is absolutely not a reflection of my current mood or state of mind.

Ok that’s it, sorry – last time I published something similar I think I got her little worried 🙂

Secondly, I have to say – I’m having so much fun attending this writing class – I’m looking forward to the weekend just to read some of the other poems and meet new people. I have only managed a fraction so far and I am impressed by the talent that is here. Well done you folks!

 

Writing 201: Fog

Fact of the Day

The light of six large fireflies is enough to read by.

 

 

Compassion #1000speak

Do you find it difficult to find compassion for your mother diagnosed with cancer? For a friend whose house was burgled? Colleague who lost his child? I’m guessing no.

How about the drug addict who broke into your neighbour’s house, the drunk driver who smashed your car or the stray dog who bit your boyfriend?  What about that smelly homeless man that sleeps on the bench in front of library and picks up cigarette butts or the group of boys that leave them behind?

I think to have compassion requires willingness to understand one’s feelings, life situation, background but also to learn not to judge too quickly or too harshly.

#1000speak

100voiceslogo

 

 

Growth in wisdom can be measured precisely by decline in bile.

~ Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

Homo (genus) H. partius (species) of Animalia (kingdom)

You make me laugh! Thursday, the new

Friday? Oh, hun that is so last centu

ry. Monday is the new Sund

ay and Tuesday is the

warm up to

the we

ek

en

d!

D

in

ne

r, glass of wine or two

_

gets you ready for the date

night – Wednesday if you

must ask – love hidden in

a cocktail bar. Thursday’s

when the real fun starts;

office meeting in a pub e

nding in the 80’s bar. Fri

day? Who cares my dear

? Friday doesn’t count.

No one remembers it

anyway!Wake up w

hen the sun goes do

wn greeting Saturd

ay’s night – and

greet it all nigh

t long! There

‘s no other w

ay! Kicked

out of the

club? S

top for

Sun

da

yr

oa

st

an

dn

ev

er

le

av

eb

ef

or

et

he game is lost. Or won. In

which case we just go on!

_

Oh sweetie, Thursday, the new Friday? That is so last century.

___

This was exhausting! I’m going to bed.

Writing 201: Animal

 

 

 

Trust

 

Past shining within permanent darkness

Astronauts floating in a metal cage

Strong bonds we trust in to hold them.

 

Trouble spotters glued to their monitors in Houston

Routine day in the office –

Out in the past linking the present.

 

Utilising theories, hypothesis and knowledge to

Till anti-matter with our curiosity,

Illustrious men and women

Lusting to reach the big bang.

 

Us, trusting the science.

____

Space fascinates and terrifies me in equal measures. I admire everyone who has dedicated their lives to studying and exploring the universe and the courage of the individuals who go out there pretty much alone for months, living and working in confined quarters, without real food or gravity. I’d love to visit a space rocket/vessel/ship (because who wouldn’t) but it would have to be safely parked here on this lovely planet.

 

As for the form – acrostic – I’m not entirely sure if I fit in with this poem or not but I am most certainly playing with the letters. I have taken second, third and fourth letter of the first word in the line and started a new world/line with these three letters, and I did this for all the lines.

Past -> Astronaut

Astronaut -> Strong etc

Only exception being Illustrious -> Lusting where I ignored the double L.

 

For a more straightforward acrostic poem, let me allow to refer you to one of my older posts – where I didn’t even know that this is a form and it has a name. I can be very ignorant.

Writing 201: Trust

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