Tag dVerse

Question Time

freyathewriter 26 Comments

Are they really human

Those people at the top

That they can even think

Of letting the atom bomb drop?

 

Do they have minds

That work like this

Day in and day out

In maniacal bliss?

 

Do they drink and eat

Atomic genocide

And dream about explosions

From which only they can hide?

 

Do they have bacon for breakfast

Like any other man

Or do they eat mushroom clouds

Which you can’t fry in a pan?

 

Shall we let ourselves be run

By these inhuman heads of state?

Or do we assert ourselves

Before it gets too late?

******

As I wrestle with revisions, plot lines, character (assassinations) and general staring at an impending submission entry deadline, I have taken a trip down a (very long) memory lane this week.

I would be delighted to find out if, when reading this, you had any idea if this poem was written nearly 30 years ago, when I was but an angst-ridden teenager? This is the poem I mentioned in a previous post, being the last time I entered any sort of writing competition. I’m kind of impressed with my much younger self’s first forays into poetry, although I blush at the idealism – but isn’t that what being a teenager is partly about? It was the 1980s and I seem to remember being frightened silly by the prospect of nuclear war (which is rather sensible, when you think about it).

Thanks to my Mum digging out the book so that we could check the title (both of us could picture the cover, but not the name), I have managed to source a very good condition second hand copy, received it yesterday and am now able to share it with you all, just in time for the weekly extravaganza that is dVerse Open Link Night (which I will link up to later this evening).

The competition was run by the National Association of Youth Clubs in 1985 (I was 14 for most of that year) and was open to girls and young women between the ages of 8 and 22. I think I saw the notice about it in Jackie magazine, which was published weekly until 1993 (and is now defunct).

Come one, come all and join in at dVerse – and do let me know what you think of my old, old work 🙂

True to Life

Phoenix

freyathewriter 65 Comments

Who am I asking at the top of the tree
Self-affirmation does nothing for me
I can’t trust my instincts, they’re hay-wired and shot
The message is scrambled, my brain’s lost the plot

I’m down on the floor, scraping in dirt
A nod of acceptance won’t really hurt
You in your turret, with glories to share
Tell me, a poor wretch, that you do really care

For it is cold down below in the shade of your heart
I live for attention, I am broken apart
When you look to the beauty of others in sight
Ignoring my mewling, I cower with fright

That I have lost you forever, I am lost in the dark
The future is bleak, empty and stark
I must go on without you, craft self-belief
Strength, hope and glory must rise from this grief.

******

This is me, putting myself in the shoes of one of the people in my work in progress novel, in the form of a poem. So don’t worry, I am not broken-hearted so soon into the New Year! Of course, there are elements of my personal history woven throughout, but this is essentially a piece of fiction. The main female character has lost her brother, has been left responsible for the safety of her little sister and the love of her life has taken a path she can no longer follow. Personal stories don’t change much in quasi-apocalyptic worlds, it’s the catalysts that are different….

Hurrah for the return of Open Link Night on dVerse. I will be linking up later on. Come one, come all and join in!

Threshold – dVerse Meeting the Bar

freyathewriter 35 Comments

Here’s my latest entry into the dVerse Meeting the Bar. This week, Gay is asking us to reflect on ourselves, think about how we talk, what we say, reveal a little piece of us in poetry form. I confess, I found this tough, tough, tough. This year, life in the Freya world has been turned upside down, and then all the pieces put back in some form of random order, so I’m not really sure who this ‘me’ is. I think I’m at a chrysalis stage, just deciding what butterfly I’m going to be (positive spin, do you see?).

So, I’m not sure if I fulfil the brief, but better some words than none at all. I do use the language, it sounds typically British as well, I feel (a bit stilted, somewhat diffident, perhaps)?

Do visit the other poets who take part in this wonderful community… you’re in for a treat!

*****

– Threshold –

Being at a crossroads
Or maybe halted by a sudden fork,
not sure which direction I’ll follow,
even where the turn will take me
when I blink and look again –
I’m not sure of myself
Nor do I understand which me I am.
The work me is part of it
But what is the other me like?
How do I behave?
What do I do, or say, differently
when the responsibility is
sloughed off as I walk through the front door?
Some days, I bring it home.
Not my work concerns per se
Just the demeanour.
I think it’s time for a reinvention.
Long overdue, frivolity has been a stranger at my door.
Perhaps with jollity’s return,
the prospect of a new beginning
won’t leave that taste of fear
on my tongue.
The taste that stops the words
seeping out.