Tag dVerse Meeting the Bar
One for the road
I always act up when I’ve had a bit to drink
I never tread carefully, don’t stop to think
I always forget – consequences arise
I never can see through another person’s lies
I always become innocent and sweet
I never look, just take a carefree leap
I always regret ignoring my concerns
I never pay attention, forget I need to learn
I always swear ‘I won’t do that again’
I never can think ‘no’, don’t ever say ‘when’
I always think that just one more is fine
I never see until too late – I’ve stepped over the line
It’s so far behind me now
I’ve lost the friends I had
Drink will be my only mate –
How did it get so bad?
———–
This week on dVerse Meeting the Bar, our bar-keep Gay has set us a huge challenge – to create a new form of poetry. I must confess, at first I felt rather floored by this. I’ve never really spent a great deal of time learning form – but then it’s only been a few months since I revisited my love of poetry writing. Its form wasn’t really ever something we learned at school (what a shame), although we did read quite a bit. So… after a little moment of ‘eeek!’ I decided to attack this in a simplistic way.
Rather than trying to research different styles and then getting frustrated at not being able to master the existing version, let alone create something new, I thought about the words themselves, about synonyms, antonyms, that kind of thing (I told you it was basic!). Since I came across this week’s theme just before 7pm UK time (courtesy of Bjorn’s blog), whilst waiting for my train home from Gatwick Airport, I don’t think I’ve done too badly – it was less than two hours ago!
So – my form, which I will name ‘Oppositional Rhyme’ has four ‘rules’:
1) The lines operate in pairs
2) The first word of each line must be the same – in this case, I used ‘I’
3) The second word should be pairs of antonyms – in my example, I used ‘always’ and ‘never’
4) The poem can be any length you like, but there should be four final lines that round off the poem which do not follow the first three ‘rules’. Otherwise it could go on, and on, and on.
Hmm… I thought it was quite simple… but now it doesn’t sound it!
By the way, the theme of this poem has nothing to do with me as such, except that for once in my 4 times a year journey to Jersey, Channel Islands and back (on the same day), I had a little drinky on the flight home. It was very enjoyable – but I do have to be firm with myself because I do have an addictive personality. It’s not too hard for me to imagine the lure of the bottle.
I hope you enjoy my offering – and do take the time to have a look at what the other creative types have dreamed up.
Gestation
She picks the colour
of the paint
with care and deliberation,
the background must
act as the perfect foil.
The walls are not quite smooth,
the minor imperfections
are not unwanted, but reflect,
in their matt-coated manner,
that life is generally forked
with deviations from
the straight and narrow.
She strokes them all,
the tailors’ dummies,
in her mind’s eye
placing them here, then there,
in this corner, in that bay window,
eventually selecting a figure
encased in plain ticking
that reminds her of oatmeal.
She can feel the texture,
rough under her fingertips,
the mild abrasiveness
transmits a shiver
deep into her bones.
For now, this is all she needs.
A space, something to lend
a sense of scale and proportion.
Soft daylight, filtered by trees.
High ceilings.
Muted, muffled, cocooned.
Here, she will grow.
Here, she will shape her future.
Here, she will unfurl.
Gestation
*****