The Ghost of Cabbage Past

  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.”

“Would that involve cabbage?” I asked

“Maybe,” she said suspiciously.

“I’ll take it.”

The Lady of the Moor

NaPoWriMo Day 22. Today’s poem is inspired by a prompt by NaPoWriMo on day 18 which was to try to write a ruba’i which is a four-line stanza, with a rhyme scheme of AABA. Robert Frost’s famous poem Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening uses this rhyme scheme. Not sure how successful it is but it felt like I should try something a bit gothic so here goes

The Lady of the Moor

In the ruins on a clear winter’s night
when the moon is full and bright
it’s said there appears the ghostly sight
of the Lady of the Moor

Upon her head sits a braided crown
long silver hair flowing down
covering a near translucent gown
she searches for love that cannot be found. Continue reading “The Lady of the Moor”

We Are She

NaPoWriMo Day 7. Here’s another poem prompted by the NoPoWriMo site but inspired by a poet I had never heard of before, the late Gwendolyn Brooks. Here’s Gwendolyn’s poem, it’s called We Real Cool

We real cool. We

Left school. We

Lurk late. We

Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We

Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We

Die soon.

Here’s my poem, it’s called We Are She.

We Are She

We wage war. We

Want more. We

Break glass. We

Hold fast. We

Stand proud. We

Shout loud. We

Stay tight. We

Show might. We

Are strong. We

Wait long. We

Are She and

She is We.