Fox on a Boat

Sitting On A Bench In The Park On A Sunny Day A book in my hand, I observed the geese Ambling over to me by the bench, Hissing. A row of pointed teeth. Sprays of water shooting  up Glittering drops falling on sensible ducks. They cut the water as they swim. A man sat on the bench next to me - in his hand a notebook. "Do you come here often?" he asks. I question my instinct. Ravens caw loudly above, a whole crew of them circling the area. Black against the yellow sun. I look like a foreigner, an artist. It is the man, he has said so. My metal badges clink as I retrieve a pen from my bag, my metal badges are my foreigner's label

Image from Pixabay - Free to use Day four of NaPoWriMo! I used the prompt today - at least I tried! My poem is probably not that mysterious... ;) Canvas City Past the train tracks Disused buildings in grey Used at dusk. Worn clothes as our uniform, dust mask, a bandanna in black. A clattering of containers and a click of lid removed Chase that grey away, art warriors of the night!

Oh, day three - I still feel so rusty from such a long absence - I realised I did not even participate in NaPo last year! I am not even sure why... In any case, today's poem is a serious flop. But I said I'd write a poem a day. I didn't say I'd write a good one every day..  Ceramic Painting As the sun shines hot and bright Music to my ears is the sound of ceramic tiles pushed into a scattered pile waiting for a colour treatment

Wheat field image from  Stockvault   Promises I will think of you As the sun sets on wheat fields I had said, convinced Field rampaged, violent Winds pushing continents a part of me, of you. We were mere strangers. I discovered new wheat fields Basked in the warm glow The sun not setting and the colours not fading But I was a rose With thorns too prickly Oh, emotions - too needy A tiger to be. Two kites were broken I'm the victim and culprit Add another stripe.

Poetry prompt from Imaginary Garden With Real Toads Summer It was as a good a sign as any That we bonded surrounded by fiction Chatter in the midst of clearing spilled popcorn Bonding by the lone chair in the space within the white walls Sandwiched between two full theatres of people Immersing themselves in others' lives. I knew it wasn't real but still I somehow hoped Attaching myself, more puppy than girl But once we left credits rolled on..

Foxes in February Watercolour fox - © Kerridwen It's #FoxyFeb again on Twitter, and for me, it means more poetry, more art, and more foxy things! For tonight, a prompt from Imaginary Garden With Real Toads : Flash 55 ! I ended up not following the rhyme scheme.. it was too difficult! Maybe next time. Foxy Feb Cold bites our noses and wind tangles hair Mornings are too dark and cold But a hopeful sun seeps through the clouds An orange hue spreads across the Evening sky  And it reminds me it's Foxy Feb! The month is brighter now As I take to paper to celebrate The majestic, cunning, fiery fox.

Poem to end the week Used under Creative Commons licence - Image source Prompt found here Another Turn of the Clock Turns of the clocks and here we are again, France and the same house - 9 O'clock to 10 O'clock. It's been 12 months and two halves, Two countries living and One week discovering. Winter was trains and a bus, legging it across Paris one morning Passing the Eiffel in a flash. Driving under thick clouds Surprise visits and a dog Overstaying, overthinking. Then we packed grandma Across the border to meet John Betjeman. Spring was slow and weak Old wounds reopened As days dragged by. Lectures and essays Train rides and a missed exam Heavy weights and lots of sweat. Summer was hot and light Away from failures and grades An exam passed with pastel colours. Greece in the sun, wind in our faces Weaving our way through mountain roads Glittering blue salvation in the distance Cats at night watching us through the hu...

Little Prince by Antoine de St Exupery From Imaginary Garden' s prompt: "For your word list challenge today, I ask that you write an original poem (or re-work an older pen) in the spirit of the book, using at least 3 of these words, post to Mr. Linky, and then return to visit and comment on all the other posts. I'll be sure to visit periodically in the days to come in case you choose to join later." The list: primeval, adventures, grown-ups, clad, reputation, ephemeral, flower, lucky, poison, stars, bank, forget, odd, million, reflective, trouble, baobabs, silence, naive, explorer. -- "Mon étoile, ça sera pour toi une des étoiles. Alors, toutes les étoiles, tu aimeras les regarder… Elles seront toutes tes amies." - Le Petit Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry -- Stars When all else in life fails Look at the stars Each and every star Has a name, never forgotten. You are worthy of a million stars Never for...

Modified prompt from day twenty. Writing in the voice of another person. -- Words From The Other Side Of course I don't hate you or forget you but I cannot change my mind At this time Yes I too have my silly head problems and Cannot get past this block But one day I'll wake up who knows and remember you for you Now, I can only love you From afar. -- Disclaimer: These are poems I won't be spending a lot of time on. As such, I don't expect perfection (neither do I need it). However feel free to tell me what you think about them, and if you enjoy certain lines more than others - I'm quite OK with constructive criticism! Are you participating in NaPo? Do you write poetry? Feel free to comment below and leave a link to your day one poems, and any general comments you wish to leave.

Picture from Wikimedia Commons  Today, I attempt to catch up and write all remaining poems.. This one is promptless, free verse.. -- Which Love Do You Choose? Perhaps love could be like a bowl Handed down generation to generation Beautiful and fragile Do you set it on your shelf Run the risk of breakage Or keep it under lock and key Carefully wrapped but Hiding the beauty? I don't choose love's bowl But rather I prefer love's flowers That come and go but stay in your mind Growing wildly on sides of roads Asking nothing but giving joy I don't need to hold on to those flowers To know their value and beauty -- Disclaimer: These are poems I won't be spending a lot of time on. As such, I don't expect perfection (neither do I need it). However feel free to tell me what you think about them, and if you enjoy certain lines more than others - I'm quite OK with constructive criticism! Are you participating in NaP...

Picture from Wikimedia Commons  Shared with Imaginary Garden "Talk to the animals in poetic form" Please come out earlier So the light can capture your photographs My cubs / need to be safe / in the dark / no danger I would never hurt you I watch you from a distance I admire your cunning eyes We fight different wars / your kind is not mine / we are your vermin I've always loved you and your kind I would never call you vermin Your fire coat is beauty and grace I fight a solitary battle / no one by my side / to read me my rights I am sorry on behalf of my kind We have stolen your land Complaining of your kind I am not one of them Dear human, I cannot trust / but I thank you / for keeping your distance One by one the little family retires beneath the bushes -- Disclaimer: These are poems I won't be spending a lot of time on. As such, I don't expect perfection (neither do I need it). Howe...

From Wikimedia Commons Shared with Poets United I thought I'd try my hand at lunes again. This poem can have a deeper metaphorical meaning if you want.. or not.. It's up to you I guess.. ;) -- As you sit Enjoy the silence and peace Sip your tea Turn off phones Disconnect from the outside world Drink your tea Discover new books Stories you didn't know existed Enjoy your tea Smile at memories Cry a little bit, too No more tea -- Disclaimer: These are poems I won't be spending a lot of time on. As such, I don't expect perfection (neither do I need it). However feel free to tell me what you think about them, and if you enjoy certain lines more than others - I'm quite OK with constructive criticism! Are you participating in NaPo? Do you write poetry? Feel free to comment below and leave a link to your day one poems, and any general comments you wish to leave.

Little owl in Texas As We Walked Home Sitting atop the fence a tiny baby owl eyes narrowed as we shine a torch Staring -- Disclaimer: These are poems I won't be spending a lot of time on. As such, I don't expect perfection (neither do I need it). However feel free to tell me what you think about them, and if you enjoy certain lines more than others - I'm quite OK with constructive criticism! Are you participating in NaPo? Do you write poetry? Feel free to comment below and leave a link to your day one poems, and any general comments you wish to leave.

Shared with Poets United -- Chemistry Class We make rocket water bottles and set our hands on fire without burning them. Our crazy teacher shouts a lot And throws pens across the room  When they don't work. Chemistry is rather like comedy And yes I feel smug about being The only one who understands his swearing In French. And that he doesn't know. But then it's all bonds and ions and rules and experiments that fail if you misread by point zero zero of.. something.. I fill card after card of info, and revise test after test struggling Then forget it all promptly the minute we move on. Still I look back With a smile Liquids changing colour Spontaneous combustion Forget the hours of boring lecture.. I held fire in my hand. -- Disclaimer: These are poems I won't be spending a lot of time on. As such, I don't expect perfection (neither do I need it). However feel free to tell me what yo...

Day 18 prompt: write a ruba’i. -- Wading through ideas Always my mind who steers There's not much for a poem But plenty to kindle my fears. -- Disclaimer: These are poems I won't be spending a lot of time on. As such, I don't expect perfection (neither do I need it). However feel free to tell me what you think about them, and if you enjoy certain lines more than others - I'm quite OK with constructive criticism! Are you participating in NaPo? Do you write poetry? Feel free to comment below and leave a link to your day one poems, and any general comments you wish to leave.

From Imaginary Garden Following  Imaginary Garden's prompt , I tried to write a poem based on the above picture. -- Patchwork Cat P oetry patchwork cat A t your service! T onight, under the stars, Patchwork C at brings colours to life H elps tiny seedlings to grow W aters them with words O f great inspiration R eads them letter of joy K icks the speaking slugs away C ome and talk to this cat A nd your sorrows melt T owers of poems and colour await. -- Disclaimer: These are poems I won't be spending a lot of time on. As such, I don't expect perfection (neither do I need it). However feel free to tell me what you think about them, and if you enjoy certain lines more than others - I'm quite OK with constructive criticism! Are you participating in NaPo? Do you write poetry? Feel free to comment below and leave a link to your day one poems, and any general comments you wish to leave.

Picture from Wikimedia Commons From the  Imaginary Garden  prompt -- Hiding Under the Wisteria Hues Blue and pink Twist around my thoughts Growing taller, hanging Over fences, bridging Gaps in trees, no more sky. A soft wind Pushes blossom on my face Tickles my eye Smells surrounding Imagining. A chink of light passing through Sweet like summer Vivid like spring As I lay on a carpet of flowers. -- Disclaimer: These are poems I won't be spending a lot of time on. As such, I don't expect perfection (neither do I need it). However feel free to tell me what you think about them, and if you enjoy certain lines more than others - I'm quite OK with constructive criticism! Are you participating in NaPo? Do you write poetry? Feel free to comment below and leave a link to your day one poems, and any general comments you wish to leave.

Shared on Poets United  following the prompt. -- Wrong Turn on a Holiday Walk Parakeets roam the beach Investigate the sandcastle we could never make. A breeze, in the warmth leads us to the ocean's edge. Here, some postcards, an ice cream box. We turn left. Here a hotel, and a pool with nobody in it. Early morning for the holidaying women and men, The sun not fully burning the skin. The woman in front is very red With thin white stripes on her shoulders Tourist's tattoo. We glance at each other, our olive skin, second home. Time has passed and there are trees A forest, we joke, with wolves. It wasn't here before and now we figure We went the wrong way. Walking forever that day, uphill, mostly Passing rows and rows of coloured houses and cats, who make the island theirs. Perdon , I think, practising asking for directions. We will not be lost visitors. I take matters in my hands. I will lead u...

Sunday night, finally caught up with the poem writing.. And.. I have no idea what happened here! I used the Sunday Whirl prompt and well.. this happened:  Zip      Zip          Zip The swing we cling to suspends us in the air for a brief moment s e c o n d s and.. off it goes, zooming, zipping 'hang on to the strap!' Liberating movement Cascades, waterfall The pleats of your skirt unruffle in the wind but you are giggling too much to worry. The wind creates a barrier between us I hear whistles and your choked voice but We are making no sense and the wind carries our words away. Words have no power. Tough on you, grammar pedants! No one will hear your cries. The detail is in the diamond. Us, here, now. We are the diamond. -- Disclaimer: These are poems I won't be spending a lot of time on. As such, I don't expect perfection (neither do I need it). However feel free...

It's just past 23:00 and I haven't written my Day Three poem. This is insane - one can't lose inspiration after just two poems! Crazy crazy.. I looked at my seeds again, that still have not shown signs of life. I'm so impatient. I want those herbs to be growing already, so fast I don't realise it! Same for the front yard and my flowers.. I'd just wake up, look out, and they'd have burst out in a firework of colours.. Yes, this is why I don't garden often. Hardly ever, really. I wouldn't call it gardening . All this waiting does not even bring poems, which is quite sad. Am I lacking inspiration, or simply lacking motivation? Or am I, without even really realising, simply 'blocked' because I fear my poetry will be / already is bad? Actually, that fear is real, and I do realise it, mostly. I will always have an inside voice telling me it's maybe not that good , what I write. But I can often shut it up - I use my best Joe Strummer voic...