NaPoWriMo day thirty. NaPoWriMo 2015 has come to an end and here’s my final poem. As I enjoyed writing my poem about dogs I thought I’d also do one about their nemesis. This one’s called Cats. Bye bye NaPoWriMo. Until next year…
NaPoWriMo day twenty nine. One more day to go. I have recently started a new book on how to form good habits, not exactly a literary classic I know but the subject interests me. Anyway, it prompted me to write today’s poem – well that and the fact that I have wanted to write something with the phrase Moral Turpitude in it ever since seeing Beulah Balbricker accuse Ms Honeywell of it in the 1980’s film Porky’s. A terrible film I know but it made me laugh at the time. For the uninitiated, Ms Honeywell was played by Kim Cattrall. The poem is called Habit Forming Theory…
NaPoWriMo day twenty seven. For poem number twenty seven I have gone with today’s NaPoWriMo suggested prompt to write a hay(na)ku. The hay(na)ku is, apparently, a variant on the haiku. To quote NaPoWriMo “A hay(na)ku consists of a three-line stanza, where the first line has one word, the second line has two words, and the third line has three words. You can write just one, or chain several together into a longer poem” so here’s my take on it. This poem’s called Going Out.
NaPoWriMo day twenty five. Poem number twenty five is a Black Country/ Brummie version of poem number 24, it’s called New Babby. For my readers and followers outside of the UK, a Brummie is someone who comes from Birmingham and the Black Country is an area to the North West of Birmingham so called because it was once very heavily industrialised. We have very similar and unique dialects. Here it is, enjoy…
NaPoWriMo day twenty four. I’ve been away in London for a few days and didn’t get to post a poem yesterday so this is poem number twenty three and I am a day behind again. I will catch up over the weekend. In the meantime this poem is called Hipster Cocktail and was in fact inspired by a few strolls through Borough Market in the Southwark area of London
NaPoWriMo day twenty one and poem number twenty one is about those good old days when Olive Oil was something you used for earache and leafy greens were plentiful. It’s called The Ghost of Cabbage Past
The house smelt of cabbage
cooked and eaten long ago but in no hurry to leave.
The ghost of cabbage
slyly seeping through the keyhole;
creeping through the cracks;
lurking in the stairwell;
sliding under the doors.
The room itself was clean,
a little faded but a pleasant enough aspect
if you like your views grey and decaying.
I tried the bed, it creaked.
I sniffed, there was that smell again
invading my nasal passages;
lingering in the air.
“It’s ten shillings a week,” she said.
I caught a faint whiff of greens on her breath.
Was nowhere in this house free from the tyranny of cabbage?
“I can do you an evening meal for an extra two shilling and sixpence.”