Poetry

Real Interactions Turned Poetical. – 15/9/17

The painter philosophical,

Tubby fleeced and rovers boots,

Sermonising, gesturing, he’s a preacher,

Half a Russian dancer,

Half wry smiles and shrugs.

Back to work I guess.

 

-zu

 

A metaphor challenge today from dVerse. I think I still have a lot to learn about metaphors. 😊

Also found this Ted talk about metaphor by Rosemary to be really helpful and inspiring: https://youtu.be/eXC3-ZFkhDo

Also this is based on an honest-to-goodness real person I met today, who probably never woke up this morning thinking he would be made into a poem by evening and probably will never know that he was.

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Poetry

Clouds – 13/9/17

I was born free; no body owns me

I can sleep on the sand

Following summer into the north

I can cloud drift

To rule the horizon

But I come back to

Beach scented oceans

Again. Because clouds

are still trapped by the earth.

-zu

Prompt from dVerse, a Quadrille using the prompt “free” and exactly 44 words. Mines a bit late!

Also drew a bit of inspiration from this corny song from the old Pippi Longstocking movie! https://youtu.be/a7m4vPcfeOE

Poetry, Prompts

dVerse prompt, shoes – 30/8/17

Summer shoes to be

Discarded, corner tossed

Feet free in the grass

– zu

A prompt from dVerse about shoes, I’ve always enjoyed hot weather when I can kick them off! This is a haiku, 5-7-5 syllables. I always have trouble with syllables because when in primary school they taught us to count them by the amount of times our chin went down when we said the word, well with my Australian accent words tend to become a little compressed! Does anyone have a better method of counting syllables? 

Poetry

“Someone’s Wishes” Poetry Prompt – 28/8/17

First day on the job,
Walking into the wish factory,
Caught my dream job,
Working on the purple planet,
Into the factory floor full with violets
and puffed clouds from the ventilation.
I’ve never made a wish come true,
Been on the collection team a times or two,
Scooping out the wishes from the atmosphere,
Microphones tuned to catch the words, ‘I wish’,
Endless flying, a little tiring after a time,
Especially on foggy days.
My resume was filled with sky racing and
Apple seeding.
How could I have got this job?
Ma said I’d never been made to corral the desks and papers,
But I hankered after the smooth and sweet
While fixing my engines and chopping the sky.
So today when I wander in
It’s with starry eyes.
Joe claps me on the shoulder,
Joe’s my new boss.
Says he’s got a desk just for me,
And walks me through the rounded floor to a corner,
Makes me sit.
Very simple,
Take the paper,
Read it,
And make a wish come true.
He claps me again and strides out.
Well. I grin. Looks like I’m a desk sitter after all!
First paper,
Surprised I glance again,
Looks like it’s from the boss’s son,
Joe’s kid.
He’s written from a smaller planet to the left,
I think it’s orange,
And quite small.
Written in a scribble, the boys were in a hurry that day,
Says, wish I were a wish collector.

 

-zu

Written from a prompt by Teresa Creations Blog.

Previous poems, “Radiant Sunrise” two word prompt – 24/8/17

Poetry

“Radiant Sunrise” two word prompt – 24/8/17

It’s a pig,
Slops and all.
Gold shines his back,
Lace clouds fall.
A pen, some straw,
A place called home.
To greet the sun,
To feel less alone.
Morning caught in a dewy web,
Moon faced sun.
Friends who are here,
Are better than none.
The pig and all,
The same under their skins.
Feeling joyous and well spoken,
Radiant, he grins.

 

-zu

Prompt from Teresa Creations Blog.

Poetry

The Painter – 25/8/17

See him striding down the side,
pot belly, paint pot.
The building’s grey, and so’s the sky,
he hums and sighs, oh me, oh my.
Long since he cast out desk sitting,
table tops and filming,
now taking pegases flying on advertising,
under a goldy street light
and an endless race track, looping, losing.
We win the race to this light, and lose it to the next.
And when we are stowed away
in some garage, others still race on.
We don’t mind, we idly watch our race losses,
it’s the only the missed turns that get your goat.
But goats are not uncommon on the grassy patches in between the buzzing highways.
People who are late for losing, lately coming,
late for work, third time this week.
We still don’t know when to indicate. Incinerate or irritate,
no irrigation is required, third time this week.
Dwarfed by madly spinning tyres,
the kind that smoothly overtake.
And just a small cut into the landscape,
another road be blowed.
Takes five years to get that kind of did undid.
And his eyes are still drawn to soft edges,
vagrant grasses, sickly shrubs,
trees that cannot seem to stop,
often a magnolia, sometimes misty rain.
 While he sheaves his sickle, sower,
sorry, paint pot or else sander,
the skin beneath his nails is the only part of himnot weather blown and roughened.
The rain falls harder now, scattered shrubs seem thicker,
the road is winding long, so long.
He’s not sure if this should be goodbye,
for if he ends up on the other side of nowhere,
he knows he won’t be back.
That’s why every time he starts he turns back.
Safety in the city, houses stacking, needing painting,
and work is hard to get when the spaces in between em goes for days.
He could never be a farmer, post deliverer, cattle rustler,
nor cowboy, farm hand, window cleaner.
But he never thought he’d be a painter either,
at least, he thought he’d be a painter,
but these days all he’s doing is swatching greys and bones
on depthless walls,
encouraging the buyers to extend and to buy local.
He gets enough walls drab and smoothly coloured to get by.
And when he drives home, in the cherry jam flowing on the road,
he brushes his tired hand across his eyes,
smarting and dreaming of a roughened canvas
full of red dust and silver moons,
water stones are smooth, red ground is forever.
He tells the road again,
not tonight.
And he swears again,
this cannot be the only tune to sing.

– zu

 

Linked to dVerse Open Link Night.

Poetry

Seed – 19/8/17

I am a seed in brown casing

Dreaming in darkness of shifting sizes and creaking doors,

Sheilded by my long brown hair, knees curled in,

I am so close to the ground, my mind is swirling in the skies,

Content as I am, does a seed know how far it will shoot?

-zu