Turquoise Monster

Yeah! I think I’ve had a baby and that baby is the WoPoWriMo Web-badge! Plus I get to show everybody that I took part in the month of poetic madness

Sisters glare
At odds
Mothers remembered
More than a simple sore point
The war of faith
The wars of nations
Where England stands
Rests with these two
As always
At loggerheads

28 days of poetic madness and I have ended up with so many poems I hardly know what to do with them - more than the 28 by about double! I need to edit some of those I’ve already put up here and some of them I don’t think cut the mustard as it were - but I like more of them than I thought I would

I’ve also ended up designing a game which has generate a lot of the poems.

I’m going to continue to put the poems up on here but will sink back to once a week I think I am also very chuffed and proud of my husbands efforts with his own Hiaku challenge

A birth
A birthday
A graduation
A wedding
A birth

Yes another wopo poem

Collected at pains
Cleaned, rubbed smooth as can be
Metallic dusky pink
turquoise shimmer
Minty green
And rusty orange
Transparent cohorts
shine like precouse gems
Collected and cleaned
fingers not yet nimble
glue and stick and paste
turning such treasures as these
into something more
A card for mum, a picture for dad
Who could mind treasures such as these

The wopowrimo brief was Coffee

Layered foam air in suspension
Fluid tumbling over itself
Brown turbulence
Black with opalescent cloud
Crystal saccarine twirled in chaotic dance
And lastly the sediment layer - sludge

Darker are the dark places
And lighter are the light ones
But darker are the light places
And lighter are the dark ones
These domains of the Id
These thought mirages
Worlds of fiction
Mirrors of our own

This poem is one of my ‘raw’ wopowrimo poems and is about a bust of a young widow in the Cheltenham Museum and Art Gallery.

Veiled
Bleached looking bone
Carved
Sad hooded eyes
Full of grief
Distorted
Hidden in folds
Looking out
In sorrow

This is a WoPoWriMo poem from one of Ella Gales fantastic pictures.

Dark Geometry

The noose is the shape of a section through a cone that bisects the apex
The Bomber cuts a black triangle through the air
The gas mask is a cacophony of curves, a new topography for the face
The tank is the home of stacked parallelograms
The bow is a semicircle cut in half by cylindrical arrow topped by piercing cone
The dagger is an isosceles triangle used for disecting the heart of man

This is the poem of a story my little girl told us, done for WoPoWriMo - it is a raw poem so feel free to leave feedback.

In the Beginning
The stars where bueatiful
And surrene
But then the moon appeared
Scattering crumbs
off Self
in their paths
They tasted and became hungry
Seething with desire
Angry with avarice
at each other
The throng moved as one
Distorted where their
pretty faces
as they became the Doom
They fell upon the moon
Who died without a sound
Distended became stomachs
feasting greedily
They became heavy
Crashing through the sky
They lay in puddles of destruction
Until the children found them
and cradled them
Giving them to their parents
To wind
They disgorged the moon
Which the older young
Threw to the sky
It coalesced and was joyous
The stars played
And danced
until all the lines of hate
that had creased their faces
where gone
And then in happiness
they drifted back to their vault
Where they sat in
Companionship
with the moon