NaPoReMo #20: Yes we can

  Variation on a Theme by Rilke Denise Levertov A certain day became a presence to me; there it was, confronting me–a sky, air, light: a being. And before it started to descend from the height of noon, it leaned over and struck my shoulder as if with the flat of a sword, granting meContinue reading “NaPoReMo #20: Yes we can”


NaPoReMo #19: Plus ça change

I lived in the first century of world wars. Most mornings I would be more or less insane, The newspapers would arrive with their careless stories, The news would pour out of various devices Interrupted by attempts to sell products to the unseen. I would call my friends on other devices; They would be moreContinue reading “NaPoReMo #19: Plus ça change”

NaPoWriMo #18 – Mustn’t grumble

Yes William Stafford It could happen any time, tornado, earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen. Or sunshine, love, salvation. It could, you know. That’s why we wake and look out – no guarantees in this life. But some bonuses, like morning, like right now, like noon, like evening. * What is a poem, anyway? Why shouldContinue reading “NaPoWriMo #18 – Mustn’t grumble”

NaPoReMo #17: For the last time…

Darling, Would You Please Pick Up Those Books? Kathryn Maris How many times do I have to say get rid of the books off the goddamn floor do you have any idea how it feels to step over books you wrote about her bloody hell you sadist what kind of man are you all dayContinue reading “NaPoReMo #17: For the last time…”

NaPoReMo #16: Show and tell

  The sun has burst the sky Jenny Joseph The sun has burst the sky Because I love you And the river its banks. The sea laps the great rocks Because I love you And takes no heed of the moon dragging it away And saying coldly ‘Constancy is not for you.’ The blackbird fillsContinue reading “NaPoReMo #16: Show and tell”

NaPoReMo #15: Writing on a donkey

  Ford Robbie Burton The donkey followed me to the ford. I pointed at the river’s grey colour and told him how it ran orange back in the steelworks days and trout and limestone turned rusty. I showed him how, even now, you could scrape a stone and still disturb red oxide. The donkey remainedContinue reading “NaPoReMo #15: Writing on a donkey”

NaPoReMo #14: Fried slice

  english breakfast wrestling the perfume of frying eggs, a trace of whisky orbits the sun. it is bastille day and the pale sky shrinks. an ash-tray is slowly filling. the old man with no fingers remembers the shriek of the circular saw; his belligerent jumper straining at the seams a leaking prostate dampening hisContinue reading “NaPoReMo #14: Fried slice”

NaPoReMo #13: We are sailing

Today’s poem appears in a photo because I can’t do the indents properly in WordPress, and a poem’s appearance is important. The visual and aural content of poetry is part of what distinguishes it from prose. If you centre a poem, leave italics out, change punctuation or line breaks, then you’re changing the decisions made byContinue reading “NaPoReMo #13: We are sailing”

NaPoReMo #12: Herd instinct

Searchlight Jim Carruth A toddler double-wrapped in heavy woollens, wedged snug in the open mouth of a ten-gallon can, I’d watch my parents work down the stalls of Ayrshires, drawing off milk along the cobbled byre. Over hunched shoulders they’d check on me, high up in my watchtower in that hall of shadows, before bendingContinue reading “NaPoReMo #12: Herd instinct”

NaPoReMo #11: a reckoning

I have a little solar flower on my windowsill, which cheerily waves its arms until dusk and then slowly goes to sleep. I once gave a similar flower to my friend Robbie, who recently showed me a photo of it bobbing away on her late husband’s grave. I loved that image; the irrepressible little trinket, keepingContinue reading “NaPoReMo #11: a reckoning”