NaPoWriMo - Day 21

Butterfly

By the flutter of your wing

Utterly camouflaged in a cabbage.

To sweep you away to a

Time almost passaged.

Entirely your precious: natural

Rounds, less indifferent.

Filled with delight

Like the fruit ever

Yearning for the taster.

NaPoWriMo - Day 20

Tool

There he was.

The tool who wasn’t

The tool he said he was.

He rattled a cage.

The tool that sounded.

The tool that founded and played.

Who was the tool?

The tool who wasn’t?

The tool who wasn’t but was?

He was a tool.

By all accounts.

The tool that probably stayed.

NaPoWriMo - Day 19

Festival

We tip-toe in at 1am

The site is calm

A storm begins.

Excitement grows

And temptations stew.

Let’s love and live

The weekend through.



Bags filled with powder

Fill the tent

And sequins, booze and

Cigs. To lament

A younger me who

Lived without fear.

Not the me now

The one that’s her

And worrying about

The hangover

Or the journey home.



Breakfast smells waft

Through the door

Where I am lying

On the floor.

The race has started;

The games begin.

I eat, dress, covert

Then let love in.

NaPoWriMo - Day 18 Green Berg

There’s a Thun in my side; It’s green, riddled, Great.

It punctures like a Berg to an unsinkable vessel.

Unsinkable, you say?

Yet, it punctured, flooded, fell.

Flooded in the past now only left to dwell.



There’s a Berg in my way, but it’s getting smaller.

The Thun comes unloose, like it was never even there.

Political, you say?

Like the turning of the tides.

The tides of March more like. A battle of the sides.



The Thun has torn a hole, and we’re watching it deflate.

The Berg has caused a whisper of diminishment and hate.

A floatation device, you say.

Yet, there’s not enough for everyone.

A floatation device for those who can pay, who have won.



Greta is the small who brings hope to a planet.

Small is the gesture but enormous is the result.

Hope is the Thun that sticks it to us.

Berg is the hope when the small, but Greta’s won.
Closure is unthinkable for a world that remains unsinkable

NaPoWriMo - Day 17 - Red Carpet

 
I walk a fine line through my house.

There’s a path well-trodden through a central line.

A tube of matted fabric, sunk, in the middle.

Round the edges, the pronounced red boundaries lie.



A beacon of hope

For lesser people

Surrounds the sides with their sorely scarred drifts.

A bittersweet rift which bats back the doubt

That my houses runs on rules we flout;

That my house walks a line that misfits.



The red carpet reminds me of, a life less ordinary.
It’s a beacon of hope that shines, shinned, shone

NaPoWriMo - Day 16 - Satisfactorily Normal

 The day folded like so many others

Into an origami bird, migrating.

I watched bemused as the inky night fell.

A hum filled the air: a dopamine hit.

The sound pierced my ears: a sertraline bit.

I watched and waited: deflated and belated.



Across the sky, a colourful sound approached.

In the wind, a pastel image occurred.

Through the meadow a dark, dank mist rising.

In my home, I sit, quiet, pale, and I stare.

Adventures stilted by, what? Emptiness.

Life? Life has amounted to confusion.

Life? Life has drifted, softly to nothing.
Life, satisfactorily normal, devoid of flare.

NaPoWriMo - Day 14 - Dark Matters

Spinning in and out of focus

Thoughts swirl like dancers

Whizzing around my head.

A coil of unpleasantries

Line up to take their turn

On the serotonin uptake theme-ride.

‘Wee!’ they seem to mock

My subconscious mind working overtime.

Thoughts too awful to comprehend. 

            In the dark nothingness, matters shimmer.

In the shimmery darkness, nothing matters.
Dark Matters