Category: Poetry

August Poetry Competition

By the time August draws to a close the holiday season will almost be over, London streets may be returned to the overtaxed residents and even the French will be back at what passes for work.

Our subject will be “My Summer Holiday”.  It does not have to be this year’s event, just something memorable to the participant.  Some of my most remembered are the annual Sunday school day trips to Porthcawl via GWR in the fifties. (It always rained).

If you really did spend your hard earned at the Olympics, (or watching cricket) that’s OK but your offering will be judged accordingly, as will entries submitted on currency or negotiable instruments.

Any form or scheme.  Closing at midnight EDST on August 31.

Fast Bizz (lunch is for wimps)

We’re your friends, we’re your friends
We’re your friends to the bitter end (the bitter end)

If you need to transact
We’ll be on your case
Right to the death
We’ll send you to the right place
We’re friends with every financial institution of the human race
In – fact – we – never – met – a – CEO – we – didn’t – hate
(DIDNNN’TT HATE)- we – didn’t – hate Continue reading “Fast Bizz (lunch is for wimps)”

Love Story (Janus pet comp)

Waiting for my discoverer
I lounge on the decking of lust
‘Neath the flower pots of flowers that I do not know
Crocus, narcissus, aramanthus?

As the sun smiles with a shiny face
There is a buzz about the place
The air is alive with a kaleidoscope of a thousand Joseph coats
I open my drawbridge and drain my moat
The beautiful Princess of the air nears me
She has ignored -I don’t know- violet, daisy and… Andy?

My vivid clothing has attracted her
She gives my chest the lightest kiss
With dry lips I watch her go
Goodbye, my sweet Miss

Sitting on the fence

The garden is swimming with insects. In the evening a cloud of tiny midges shimmers in a cloud, back-lit by the late sun and then the Blanford Fly is out and about, nipping ankles at dusk. Once the lights have come on in the house the May bugs start battering the windows and moths seek warmth.

The local felines are edging around one another. Pippi was terribly offended when a rather high-maintenance fluff-ball entered our house without an invite earlier on today. Fluff ball was soon shooed away. The night before we had heard fighting, but Pippi came home injury free, so we assume she either stood up for herself or kept out of the action.

The rooks are raucous, shouting and demanding as they fly over head. Blackbirds are bold as they scuttle along the ground. There’s a tit’s nest in our porch, but not in the tit-box I carefully put up. And no occupants, to date in the house martins nest and the swift boxes either.

In the field behind us there’s a horse which whinnies enthusiastically much of the evening. But I don’t know enough ‘horse’ to know whether it’s joy, frustration or just high spirits. No-one seems to be concerned however, so I assume all is OK Continue reading “Sitting on the fence”

The War of 1812

The nation plans to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the War of 1812, it seems that it has become a cause and has acquired the flavour of significance.

Apart from a couple of good songs and a pretty good flag I don’t see it.

This is my contribution to Mr. Mackie’s Poem contest and I shall post a link there.

Continue reading “The War of 1812”

April – a busy month

This month I have mainly been working (the paid variety) managing those about to take GCSE and A levels, gardening and trying to keep up with the challenge of writing a poem a day, among other things…. there’s a major garden project going on and normal life to keep up with…. a woman’s work is never done.

The blossoms are suffering from  the heavy rains and high winds….

Wet, windy weather
clusters of blossom blown down –
fragile button-holes

girls in dancing clothes
pick up the battered blossoms
to put in their hair

the cat, exhausted
from chasing whirlwind petals
lazily stretches

For the National Poetry Writing Month, NaPoWriMo, which you can find here

 

Now I see the photo competition is ‘growing’ I shall be getting the camera out in the next few days, given that we get some good light…..

Late arrival – Easter Poetry winner

My title refers not to the winner but to a speeding car which crashed through our hedge at 4 a.m. today! A boozed-up youth was arrested in short order, leaving the car to grace our grass until somebody sorts it out. Luckily none of the five occupants was hurt.

However, I then spent the waking hours reviewing the excellent crop of entries for the Easter comp.  – quantity and quality both.

But how to decide? My shortlist includes those which reflect my own particular likes and dislikes. Papag’s Bubba and Balotelli, FEEG’s Humphrys (except the spelling, sorry!) and Livingstone, Christopher’s Angela and Barack, LW’s Kim and Humperdinck, JM’s Salmond, Soutie’s Nelson and Clarkson, Sipu’s Queen and of course Arrer’s Guardianista. Phew!

So I awarded points for poetic words, alliteration and added vitriol and came up with …….. John Mackie’s cinquain devoted to his bête noire, Alex Salmond:

Salmond, Scottish Nationalist, Hates my country, Slavering, slaistering, sleekit scunner, Shite

Congratulations, John, and thanks to everyone.

Last chance saloon

No, it’s not Clarkson’s latest put-down, it’s the Chariot’s pome comp which ends at midnight tonight. Out of respect for my burdensome rôle as da judge, I have changed my gravatar – which depicts me/us weighed down by gravitas.

Entries to date are already impressive – reflecting cherished colleagues’ natural talent for a vibrant vignette.

So one last push guys, eh?  And as you see I’ve brought along a noggin to celebrate.