Month: February 2019

poetry

On the Cusp of, What?

carolyncordon

I’m still very much enjoying this Poem a Day thing, venture, experiment, call it what you will, where I can use the prompt of the day, and use it to write a brand new poem. How awesome is that? Hugely awesome, that’s how much.

The poetry prompts are provided by three lovely people, Kathy Parker, Paul R Kohn and Laura Greaves, and the idea is that poets/people who may realise they are poets if they undertake this challenge, those people, all use the prompt for the day, and write a brand new poem. It’s that simple/difficult/whatever …

When I spotted this new poetry thing, on Kathy’s Twitter post, back before February began, I thought, yes, something to keep me writing more, yes, yes, yes! So I got involved, and thought about what I would do with the new poems I would write. The obvious answer to that question was to post them on this blog, which you are looking at right now.

And when this wonderful month of #poemadayfeb is over, I should have enough poems to put together a chap book of poetry, and may interest a publisher in publishing such a little poetry book … Or I could print it myself, perhaps if a publisher doesn’t appear to do that work for me …

I am a poet, writer, and occasional public speaker, and if I can get more people coming along to my writers website and blog, something magical may happen. There has been mention of rainbow unicorn butterflies happening, but I may be confusing that with something on social media. Probably Facebook, and there was a cute picture, but I digress …

Anyway, the poetry prompt for today, 16 February #poemadayfeb, was/is “Cusp”. I thought about what the word meant to me, then checked out the actual meaning, thought a bit more about my life, and the lives of others, and I came up with the poem below. It isn’t a rhyming poem, it isn’t a fancy pants poetic form, it is merely unrhyming stanzas of three lines for each stanza.

Enough talk of what it may be, here is what it is, a brand new poem for today:

 

Get there & jump!

On the edge, the turning point, the cusp,

the spot where things can change,

go from being one thing to being another –

 

child to teenager, teenager to adult

adult to, well to what? To whatever it is

at the ultimate edge for us all to face.

 

Bad to good, or good to bad, crossing

transitioning, becoming something else,

something other that what we were,

 

venturing into a new state of being ;

ugly/beautiful, unknowing/thoughtful,

become aware of a new and better you.

 

It can happen, but only if you are ready

to approach and cross over, move into,

metamorphose, as tadpole does to frog …

 

If you stay the same, unmoving, blocked

stopped, in stasis state, when all else

is changing – you’ll be run over, crushed,

 

never able to achieve a single thing

worth getting or doing, chances ignored,

achievement impossible, a life lost …

poetry

Thoughts about women and men …

carolyncordon

This poem came from thoughts about the lives of young women, and memories of my life, way back before I stepped right away from that “mating game”. I found the man I trusted enough to want to marry, and we have worked at being married for many, many years now, and still married, 33 years later.

It’s a relief now, to be able to not worry about how things may go after a night out, whether to take the offer of a lift home, hoping it will be safe, or whether the bus might be a better choice, though I’d be later home.

There are rules, but not everyone goes by them and the more alcohol is involved, the less attention is paid to those rules. Going out at night shouldn’t mean anything more than simply wanting to go out at night. And what you wear is your business, and shouldn’t be read as making a statement, not at all.

Women dress up for themselves, for their friends, because it makes a night feel special, and yes, perhaps to attract male attention, but not always. Never assume anything about a women, because all are individuals, and do different things for a variety of different reasons …

******************************

I was out earlier today, so began writing this poem on my mobile phone, then my phone ran out of charge … I’d written enough though, that I had the core of what I wanted to write, so even though I finished the poem just now, many hours after starting it, it still holds to the ideas I wanted to write about.

I am so glad that I no longer have to think about the things in this poem, and I certainly wish no-one at all ever have to think about them, and that going out was safe for everyone. We are a long, long way away from that though …

And though I say I’m glad I no longer have to think about these things, the simple fact of being a woman, being out alone at night could make me a target for abuse from a rapist, it’s a simple, and nasty fact of life. It makes me sick in my mind that it’s so, but I’m intelligent and cluey enough to see the reality of it all.

Sometimes I think gelding all men may be the way to go. Geldings cause far less trouble than stallions … Obviously I don’t actually mean that, but …

15 February assumption
Don’t Make an Ass out of U or Me
Not all holes are in need of filling,
no matter what you think, blokes –
an enthusiastic “Yes!” means she’s willing
otherwise they’re illegal pokes.
Assumptions made, chances taken,
his wrong move, and you’re a loser,
trust betrayed, love forsaken.
Next time remember, she’s the chooser …
‘Yes’, is only three small letters,
but they’re oh, such important ones
whether sporting stars or business go-getters,
get it wrong, you’re in trouble – tons!
It may seem to men, women hold the reins
about these things, but that’s not true –
boyfriend or rapist? The question attains
a scary power over you –
when a simple meet up, may lead to more
and a woman only wants a friend,
but ugly times, may become the score –
casual dating? Not when rape is the end …
Is it a nun’s life the choice you’ll have to take?
No going out, ‘cos you no longer dare,
don’t go out and party, stay home and bake,
to keep safe out of mating game glare …
poetry

Children and Vegetables …

carolyncordon

Not every poetry prompt will have fantastic results for everyone … I wrote a poem earlier today, that I thought was a good idea, but I sort of lost the love for it, by the time I had finished writing it. It may have been a good idea, but it didn’t impress me, really, by the time I’d finished it.

And then tonight, after I’d finished my poem for the day, but still not posted it here, I read the poem that Kathy Parker wrote, and was so impressed by the simplicity of it, I felt I would have to try again, and write something that wasn’t trying to be serious, because Kathy’s poem was so perfect, I’d have to take a totally different direction for my own poem.

So, my poem I am going to post here for today’s poem, which is on the theme of “Unless”, is a simple poem, a two verse Acrostic poem, on the theme. And acrostic poem is one which uses a word, where the letters of that word form the first letter of every line of the poem.

If you’re confused, look at the poem and it should become clear. It’s a little bit of fun, and I hope you smile at it! Here it is:

 

Hey Parents

Useless to protest,

No child ever

Loved broccoli

Every child always

Screams, ‘No!

Stop feeding me that green muck!’

 

Urgent update from a parent –

Not all children

Loathe that vegetable

Even though they’re

Sure it’s not little trees.

Stupid they are not!

 

poetry

Theme for Today is Change

carolyncordon

My first thought, when I read this theme earlier today, was a memory of the cover of the David Bowie album, Changes One Bowie, you know it, this one:

Changes_one-cover.gif (300×300)

Then I thought about other bands I was listening to way back when I was young, then I thought about other changes from back then, to now, and that brought out a little poem, a ‘true to my life’ kind of poem that covers a range of things and changes.

I hope readers might get a smile out of this poem, remembering similar (or different) things from their own lives.

It may be relevant to know that my chronic illness is MS (Multiple Sclerosis). I talk about that sometimes on another of my blogs, the one named after the memoir I wrote soon after being diagnosed with this illness, nine years ago.

So here is today’s poem, let me know what you think about it, all thoughts welcome!

 

Fine Changes

I was a Bay City Rollers fan when I was twelve

then I liked The Sweet, and other, hipper bands

than the Bay City Rollers, were ever going to be

 

I used to ride horses, & was stablehand for Dad

now I drive a car, and help care for our dog

same job, more horsepower and stinkier shit

 

I’ve been a victim, then a survivor, and now,

well now, I am thriving, as much as one can

when struck by an incurable chronic illness …

 

That incurable illness, well, there’s no cure yet

but those clever folk are out there looking, so

one day, incurable may well change to curable

 

And that would be another fine change indeed!

poetry

Is Prose Poetry Actually Cheating?

carolyncordon

Yesterday, for my poem a day (#poemadayfeb), I wrote a prose poem based on the theme of ‘first’. The prose poem flowed, and gained a little bit of attention from other poets, online, which was lovely. I didn’t feel like that prose poem was cheating, because quite a bit of thought went into the writing of it, as it does for more ‘form’ related poetry written.

My poem today though, as soon as I saw the prompt, I felt the urge to make it another prose poem, and the words just flowed, and flowed, with only a bare minimum of editing needed, so it really did feel a little bit like cheating – is poetry supposed to be as easy as just thinking a bit and letting the words flow? Really?

If it is allowed to be that easy, is there truly real merit? But of course, the mind that holds all of the ‘stuff’ that flows onto the page/screen, that mind is working hard at scratching up the relevant bits, and piecing them all together in a harmonious way (I hope that’s how it will seem to others, anyway) …

I certainly enjoyed the writing of this prose poem today, but I suspect tomorrow will bring back my more usual poetic format of writing poems in short lines, either rhyming or not … We’ll see what happens when I see tomorrow’s poetry prompt.

So to today’s poem, as I said, another Prose Poem, a shorter one this time, and one that may not have as much impact as yesterday’s prose poem, we shall see. So here it is:

thinking on too many things perhaps? or just the correct number …

I’m almost shivering on this rain & wind struck day, Summer hiding, as I too hide, from the unseasonable cold. Walls holding most of this inclement weather at bay, but the open window on my left, is open to … to what? To let the fresh air in? … as if there probably isn’t already enough air, fresh enough for good health, inside this home, as most comfortable middle-class homes, already have, probably. Especially this home, my home, my rural but not farmhouse home, set amongst farmland, but far enough away from the farms, that I don’t have to worry too much, about bad things blowing in, from any of the agriculturalists’ toxic chemical weaponry, used to assist to bring good food to our nation, keeping unwanted things – fungus, insects, weeds, and so on, at bay … Farming, such a lovely thing, those gentle cows, those placid sheep, from where I watch, anyway – I’m well away from the abattoir, so I can pretend a little bit, and not gag at the idea of meat cooking on the bbq, but enjoy the work of the livestock producers instead … Changing ideas, or back to the original one, really … apparently it will be hot again in the week, an app told me that, when I looked on my mobile source of knowledge, formerly known as a ‘phone’, (which I sometimes actually use to talk to people on, but not often) … anyway looking with my eyes right now, through the opened window on my left, it looks like Summer has signed off for the season, and has let Autumn in, reminding me that climate and seasons, both change …