Tag Poetry

Frack Off! – dVerse Poetics

freyathewriter 31 Comments

Please excuse the poor formatting and whatnot – I am posting this using my phone, so goodness knows what it will look like! Suffice to say that this week’s dVerse Poetics prompt was too good to miss. The issue about which I feel strongly was also very close to my dad’s heart, and since I have spent a strangely enjoyable evening talking about him, it feels like the right thing to do. I don’t have my laptop with me (I am away from home), hence the phone post.

I hope you enjoy this – it was written very quickly, but the pumpkins were calling! I will come back and comment on others’ poems and tidy this up, next week.

 

– Frack Off! –

What the frack are you all doing,

stomping through our field?

 

Shaking up the ground boys,

to extract what shale will yield.

 

But can’t you see we’re ripening,

until we’ve reached our best?

 

Sorry guys, the future’s ours,

there is no time to rest.

 

You’ve got to wait, the season’s here,

the farmer needs his crop.

 

Shut your mouth, behave yourselves!

There’s no way we will stop.

 

Pumpkins, squash and turnips too,

for decades we’ve grown here.

 

Times they change, that’s how it is,

the law is very clear.

 

Power and might are on your side,

for now at least, it’s true.

 

But Mother Nature will fight back,

and first, she’ll come for you.

You’re going too far, you’ve lost the plot –

money has turned your head.

Filthy lucre’s not all that.

 

Especially

when

you’re

dead.

Discordance – dVerse Open Link Week 116

freyathewriter 29 Comments

Here’s my latest entry into the dVerse Open Link – why not take a look at everyone else’s wonderful responses?

This piece is about the wrong time, the wrong place, about how, in a typically English fashion, we sometimes hide behind our walls, offer up excuses for fear of being hurt, or revealing our true selves.

*****

– Discordance –

If I was in another place
inside my head, if there was space
and I could clear away the noise
that leaves me raw and turns me cold –

If I was in another place,
and could connect, smile at your face
that holds those eyes of perfect poise
I would smile and risk my soul –

If I was in another place
where I could turn back and retrace
the path that left an empty shell
I would reach out, take your hand –

But I am in this darkened place
which won’t allow a moment’s grace,
to open up my heart and tell
you my life story, understand

that this is not my chosen place,
our cards are mismatched in this case
please walk on by, return again
for now just let me be your friend

Cuts Like a Knife – Līgo Haibun Challenge

freyathewriter 14 Comments

I have decided to dip another toe in the world of the haibun – a piece of prose followed by a haiku poem. The Līgo Haibun Challenge is hosted by Penny, Ye Pirate and Nightlake – why not take a trip to their blogs to find out more?

This week’s two alternative prompts are:

The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough – Rabindranath Tagore

or
The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful  – E.E. Cummings

I have chosen Rabindranath Tagore as my inspiration – I hope you enjoy it.

Please do go and check out the other entries by visiting any of the co-hosts’ blogs and finding the InLinkz linky thing! There are some very talented writers out there…

*****

– Cuts Like a Knife* –

She sometimes forgets. Wrapped up in the treadmill of her days – the getting up, the showering, the dressing, the rushing out of the house; she is distracted.

Half a mind on this, the other on that.

But then, late at night, as she steps into her bedroom, switches on the lamp and bathes herself in its pool of yellow light, she catches a glimpse. She is peeling off the day; removing her jacket, her blouse, skirt and stockings. Her mirror records the moment, that millisecond when half-turned, she sees the inky etchings on her rose-blushed skin. It was a choice she made not so long ago, to record a time in her life that changed the path that she thought had been set.  A reminder that for her, life’s opportunities must not be taken for granted and yet sometimes, she also just needs to breathe.

the butterfly kiss
whisper-soft, yet knife sharp
in its impermanence

*Yes, I have Tagore’s quote etched on my skin, in a huge spiral across my back, starting at the base of my spine. Yes, this is autobiographical. No, you don’t get to see pictures!

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