Monday 17 December 2012

Realisation

Light of day cold, so called
A morning after thoughts crystallised, actions frozen for all time
Time to reflect, the toss of a well thumbed coin
More often, than well thought through plans
However this day, tomorrow, is mild
Already warming to the winter heat
And soon the New Year, new you - reinvention.

Friday 7 December 2012

Cruel parting

Bullets rain, abruptly halted by some
alive, yet broken careers and ambitions
spun round, survivors weep at their relative security
lessons retaught, always someone elses toy
friendships once shared, fade as the light does from this day
to look back may reveal another way, a different path
an honour to lead, yet to a destination not of their making
harsh words and spite, will not right this woe
take pride in what faces were scaled, and peaks were stood
to be surrounded by stars.

Monday 26 November 2012

Roast of the Year

Debate ceased, unresolved, out of time
Fresh, organic, frozen - goose, step to turkey
Countless recipes for success or disaster
Prime slots pitch battled, Nigella, Delia, Gordon, Jamie
Causing a Roux!

Tradition changed over time, demands attention
Sprouts of English growth, not a Belgian insight
Chaos and stress, if its too hot get out
Strangers to the cuisine hub, inspect unfamiliar instruments
Poorly handled bring destruction

Faint tingling of tunes, so seasonally fragile
Aromas blending drawing the hungry near
The final push to bring the artwork together
Crashing and draining - remember the stuffing
Steaming bowls and vessels criss-cross the feasting platform
All assembled

A palette of colour and sauces plays dominance to the carved flesh
Mouthfuls interrupted to make the craic
Reluctant kings and queens for the day
Miniature gifts, discarded like a pack of cards
Gluttony recommences, a festive wish
Always tempted by a succulent breast
And later the great escape...to the land of nod.

Sunday 25 November 2012

To be true ( a stab at a song)

Seasons change
like you did with your thoughts of me
Life rearranged

victim of your desire to be free
Lessons learnt
a stronger man I've become
Feelings hurt
turning boldly to face the sun

Chorus
I'm picking up where I dropped off when I met you
You were my world, though I was left the fool
Living out my life, head high to what lies ahead
Looking for the life I want to lead, to be true

Striking out
putting me as the priority
In first place
no room for us, only me
Taking back
the pride that used to show
Loud and clear
Just so I can let you know

Chorus
I'm picking up where I dropped off when I met you
You were my world, though I was left the fool
Living out my life, head high to what lies ahead
Looking for the life I want to lead, to be true

I'm on the mend
friends pushed aside, draw back in
Realigned
building up, fresh options start to sing
Faces new
the shadows of history, the ghost of you
Brighter days
mistakes I made,  lightening up my shade of blue

Chorus
I'm picking up where I dropped off when I met you
You were my world, though I was left the fool
Living out my life, head high to what lies ahead
Looking for the life I want to lead, to be true

Seasons change
like I have since we came apart
Life rearranged
a genuine suitor for my heart
Lessons learnt
discovering important things for me
Feelings hurt
time heals so quick, it's me who's truly free


copyright PoetryNovice 2012





Saturday 24 November 2012

Diablo solo

Guitar low, resting like the streaks of shoulder length hair,
up and down to the repetitive two chords and metal beat
his presence beyond the human form
stirring an atmosphere, electric
the thrash recedes, his big moment upon him
the fifth one tonight, the lynchpyn
a lack of hot air about Diablo's lead solo.

A piece inspired as a thank you to a friend who may guide me in my musical ambitions.

Wednesday 14 November 2012

Tax haven

Lukewarm rings, froth, cloud the ceramic
making the rappe inno last at its cost
a slice of western seaboard to eradicate boredom
posh cafe, common to many
sofas, shin tables, to make a home from home unrecognisable
relaxed, propped, on display - muffins on a diet
e-reader to hand, symbol no longer novel
the too-smart phone, glasses to another world
in search of your engine
me time - feeling comfortable?

Saturday 10 November 2012

Annual stress check (or Over a Cliff)


Tickets, passport, sun cream and a hat

Rummage in the loft, suitcase, packed

Shuffling, coats off, liquids in plastic bag

Security, x-ray fluids? A chemistry lesson never had

The shopping mall, runway attached

Excessive confection, positioned to attract

Flight called, stressed and the loyal board first

Lengthy taxi, rumble, airborne,

Blue skies, on our way

 

Huffing and puffing at baggage reclaim

Well it has been 5 minutes

Heat attacks you to make the transfer to immersion

A different culture, language – PANIC - wrong side of the road!

Relax?

Arrive too soon, too quick to be the ‘right’ side of 3 pm

Reception plays the part – click, click – no room (yet) at this inn

Meander to the pool, loungers guarded by elderly and infirm relatives

Your limbs and attire howler new arrivals!

Finally mid-afternoon is achieved

Reception, sterile, process started from the beginning

 

Formula for the summer holiday

Eat, drink, beach, pool, tour

Repeat for x days

Then reverse first section

Book by Christmas for following year – discount

The apprehension!


A piece as per challenge by @frenzyofflies and Santha_G 10/11/12

Thursday 8 November 2012

Pick ME up

A brighter day in many ways
Time to figure out what next
Kind words that tear at the heart
Support that confuses the mind
Values and to be valued, neither unique or isolated
Confidence and pride, once more gaining momentum
Finding footholds in the shell of wreckage
A new day, a rinsed dawn, eyes open.
 

Monday 5 November 2012

Serving suggestion

Searing eyes of unknowing
Averted temptation, thoughts aloud
A strangeness where once friendship
Lost, overgrown by positioning and power
Strength in ones own expectations
A siege formed by the conditioning of behaviour
Dampened, flames of frustration fizzle and vapourise
Evaluating the necessary temperature for the dish best served….

Friday 2 November 2012

Day return

Patience spent for the half hourly service
frustratingly arrives every 45 minutes
information, everything except the final destination, our destination
indecisive tourists cling to the driftwood advice of the long term visitor

A circuitous route, at break neck speed, going nowhere fast
allured to see local sites, authenticity
clusters driven past, too slow to extend a limb
or simply hoping for a different number - a lottery

Glass windows with seductive mannequins
drawing in the weak minded, taken from their track
chubby prostitutes, their ugliness exposed by the daylight
astride tacky chairs in doorways, optimistic

Street after street, lane after lane
attempting to break the urban grip
traffic lightens yet frustration brews
industrial, the frontier before country

Then, a horizon once more, patches of green and hillside villages
the zig-zag route continues, as the day ticks away
the brain and backside now numb to this journey.

Tuesday 30 October 2012

Last resort

Birdsong at max chat early evening
a celebration of the day or warning of the sunset
traffic knowingly passes below, out of view
its obscured random hum masked by the constant chirp

a vista across the manipulated matt greens and tasselled dull yellow
towards the mid-roof pool with unoccupied loungers, regimented
beyond to a sprawl of creams and sand, horizon
sea at calm, no longer bullied by gales and gulls

a soiled fish and chip newspaper cumulus
blurring charcoal and off white, crumpled, hangs motionless
a point of reference, not on any chart
autumn rays that had warmed flesh and soul earlier
illuminate western facades as they lose their grip, falling
premature symbols awake, bringing forth a neon blaze
later, their turn to lead us towards the next day.

Monday 29 October 2012

Admitted

Eyes projecting fear and anxiety
self diagnosis infects those in turn
once over the yellow line, triage, assessed
a stream of new customers
anguished, reaching out for pain relief
blurred blue, bar coded hems
normal attire denoting authority
folds of turquoise privacy swish
ushered to a random tone chorus

Intimate information shared
questions draw no answers
detail overload, scarce conclusions
verbal short hand, translatable to specialists
loud nurses to the patient hush
test upon test
helpless relatives, situational aliens
random, fragmented chatter
dribble and trivia, useless beyond the day
Waiting, like for a bus, remained faithful
A verdict - life sentence or release on bail.




Wednesday 24 October 2012

Lions mane

Cropped short, under control
Everything was as expected
Decades of similarity, about to be undone
Convention flouted, post a loved ones comment
Week by week, left unattended
Superficial containment, attempted though often to fail
Enhancement achieved, difference noted
The lion evolved its mane.

Monday 22 October 2012

Earth, wind and pyre


Strikes and dismay gripped the land

Uncertainty fuelled by the stark and restraint bulletins

Homely focus provided by a bulky box

The entertainment centre, three options and off

Monochrome whilst some battle with garish magenta's and limes

Battered, hand me down board games, already in their death throws

Detached from the realities of the crumbling economy

The young absorb every letter and action of the captions

Beano for the boys, Bunty for the girls

In a time when each knew their place in the cultural fabric

Propaganda presses gushed aplenty in Dundee

Whilst rock and soul competed for the delinquents loyalties

And fashion tore at the stability of post-war Britishness and reserve

Stripped, like the vomit inducing floral emblem wall coverings, the 70’s.
 
In response to a @boinkaz challenge 22/10/2012

Littoral royalty



Spread out and lumped together
Like toys scattered across a bedroom floor
Dull colours and odd shapes randomly catching her eye
Attentive to her own enjoyment, she scours each foot step
Holding high her latest prize of slate pebble or incomplete shell
Simple pleasures for this princess of the beach
Before retaking her protectors hand.

Sunday 21 October 2012

Blots on the horizon


Static in line, soldiers on parade
Waiting in turn to evacuate their belly's
Hugged by the grey, anchored to the horizon
Distant from shore, not revealing of the fall and rise
These global travellers, temporary residents.

Friday 19 October 2012

Salvo of Vigata

Startled by the crashing sound, though it happens every time
Catarella slipping at the door, his haste in fighting crime
Surrounded by skill and incompetence, he takes it all in his stride
His waning fidelity to Livia, once a constant pride

Cases that challenge him, that sealed someone’s fate
Invisible hands try to scupper him, Mafioso or state
A love of food guides him daily to mangiare at Enzo's
Bella women catch his eye, more subtle than Mimi’s, it shows

Chiselled looks that make many female viewers sway
Cutting through the water, it would seem almost every day
The shaven head detective, full of charm and expertise
Entertaining us every week, from Vigata, Sicily.

Thursday 18 October 2012

Choc Lit

She awoke in Bourneville, her luxurious hotel
Chocolat on her mind, the munchies the only topic
A boost she needed, would have to be more than a fudge,
Or the malt that teased her before bed
Packing her kit, Kat pondered her options like a lion
At the bar the previous night, minstrels dressed in green & black played
A final twirl before boarding a double-decker
To her the drifter, she would often revel at the galaxy
Searching for mars and the occasional milky way
With a crunch, the day still stood before her, yet all she wanted was time out
The marathon would be no picnic without any (s) knickers - she craved dairy, milk
At last reaching into the draw, she drew a wispa of a delight
This flake was all she required to feel divine.

another @frenzyofflies inspired piece

Wednesday 17 October 2012

Here it comes again, here it comes again

Tones of Annie Lennox fill my head whenever it rains
Light exchanged for grey, summer days are packed away
Life of green being fed to plants and trees
Ironically, before the falling god-like temperatures take their fullest grip
Culling with frost and ice
Consciously unwilling to venture beyond the sanctuary of bricks and mortar
Expectations of the day bending to our wishes, blown away with the wind
When experience confirms we are the pawns, us weather obsessives.

Tuesday 16 October 2012

The Human Smoking Gun

His grip of reality consistently patchy
Truths amongst untruths, muddled like a Rumsfeld explanation
Isolating collaborators, creating broken webs of secrecy
Freely scattering ill formed comments, that fall as bullets
Like a child soldier let loose with their first machine gun

Oblivious and arrogant of the damage inflicted to ideas, passions and common sense
Smug in his own importance and self worth
Careless with peers, yet creative with masters
Originator of rash decisions, borne out of little thought and knowledge
Loud, unaware, ploughing his way like a meteor scarring a planets surface
Speaking for everyone and yet no one, the human smoking gun.

Monday 15 October 2012

Misjudged in donkey's clothing

Traditional in his ways, he carries his burden, dutiful like a mule
A mule who thinks itself a thoroughbred, when others see a nag
Loyal to its masters, experience in its abundance, disinterested in the antics of others
Yet cometh the day when the burden is relieved, to a replacement full of noise
Then led towards the gate, shut firmly behind, pastures new.

Sunday 14 October 2012

50 Cravings of Pear

Her life has been spent blossoming her beauty
Desiring more, as the scenery of each day remained the same
She would see him from time to time
Though he would pass by, paying her no attention
Unaware of her age she surmised him older, wiser, worldlier
Youth unappealing until the day he appeared to lure at her
Occasionally he would spend moments absorbing her
Rarely would he caress her gently, her fantasy

Feeling the maturity inside her building, her strong core, sweetness
Sun often falling on her fresh, young skin, its colour deepening
Abruptly one morning, he returned with a different, intent look on his face
And shook her, rattled yet invigorated
He gripped her, tighter than before, she felt his indifference
Stifling her breath, plucking her from her family tree
The gentle touch displayed before, replaced by rough experienced handling
Warmth of contact driving her intensity, her skin a flush, awash with emotion

She recovered, pleasure outliving the pain inflicted
Detecting a slight bruise from her tryst, finding herself amongst many similar to her
Lacking confidence, she wonders if he always looked for the same type
Ripe for the picking - his choosing
As the moon sets and sun rises, others come and inspect her, prod her, touch her
Feeling tarnished yet she longs for every moment of attention and contact
No longer the centre of attention, she desires the pleasure once more
Discolouration the sole reminder of the joy through the act

Startled, gripped by her former lover, forced back into a moulded restraint
Heartbeat rapid, the charcoal material grips her curvaceous bottom
Neck held firm, as though still in his grasp
Intimacy with her harness, forces her arousal, to be taken
Plunged into darkness, she dwells on what it will be like this time
More pleasure, less pain – how could that deliver her ecstasy?
Moisture discretely rises to her skin, evidence of her lust and being

Warm air, rises to meet the temperature of her sexual imagination
Hand smelling of cinnamon takes her neck and sniffs at her body
A younger man, her new lover? Perspiration on his upper lip
Wiped away with his lingering tongue, as he forces her onto the hard surface
Light caught on the flashing blade, to what extremes will she endure
In pursuit of the pleasure of her release?
His expression non-descript, an act he has performed many times before
No longer generates any pleasure for him, mechanical, a basic need

Stinging pain whips her bottom, the lashes closer, reaching her heart
Brutally forced over onto her side, she finally sees herself through their eyes
Her life spent, a tart, the light fading
Agony has stripped her of skin and pleasure
Taking her place as one of the fifty cream virgin , to be caramelised and consumed.

Assisted and encouraged by: @kateselwood1 @frenzyofflies @Santha_G

Masculine resignation

Sudden movements break the dawn
Throw on clothes, stifle a yawn
A chill that greets you, cuts like a knife
Tiled floors, barefooted, like ice
Keeping mobile to generate heat
Where are slippers for your feet?
Summertime has almost gone
Time to put the heating on.

Friday 12 October 2012

Wish and be grateful


Spending listless days
Awaiting your presence here
Recalling your special ways
Fantasising you are near

Memories run through my mind
New experiences yet to find
To touch you is pure bliss
You surprise me with your kiss

Familiarity provides the music, to our dance
Exploring each other, when we get the chance
Longing for your warm embrace
Melting when I see that smiling face.

Thursday 11 October 2012

Light harvest


Disappointment circles the table
Focus on the sole object at its centre
Thoughts of delicious treats shattered
Because there is but one

Decisions to be made on how best to honour this gift
Be that pie, crumble, stewed
Consensus sought, compromise made
A pie is forming, hunger biting

Fruity aroma spills into the room
Crockery and cutlery set, for the feast
Then the door bell chimes, a stranger joins
With the harvest of Waitrose's finest.

A hint of sophistication

Formal gathering or just because
The wafer choc causes a fuss
Individually wrapped to draw appeal
Hoping yours has not been congealed
Scent of mint is released on opening the lid
A sight so familiar since you were a kid
Unwrapped between your fingers, coating hard
A tiny bite, jelly attached to a shard
The blend of chocolate and mint seal the fate
Treat in itself, just after eight.

Wednesday 10 October 2012

Essential viewing

Sunday night viewing has returned to pace
Damien Lewis, pesky Brit, a familiar face
Drama continues, plots thicken and unfold
Edge of seat, stories to be told
Conspiracy, intrigue, all play their part
Carrie's character, led by head not heart
Debate continues, patriot or foe
Lifted up to running mate, from your average Joe
Mixed reactions, aspirations, is there a series three?
All from our Home, Land of the free.

Tuesday 9 October 2012

Exceedingly good

Farmers wives and trendy teens
A competition, up they spring
To show their art and produce the goods
Armed with shiny trays and pins of wood
Temperatures rising yet the rain lashes down
A homely marquee, stadium for this crown
Tension, creation, sweat and tears
Cooking times adjusted, "points deducted" fears
Finally judges deliberate, comment and criticisms make
All this passion and effort for a winning home-made cake.

Post haze


Dampness mixing with the sun
Produces a misty veil across the fields below
Emerald reinstated from the drought and haze
Of days, weeks, previous

Sun on my back, a near cloudless sky
Feels ones soul with joy
A distant rumble of cars
The sole intrusion to this enjoyment

Staring further, across meadows and gentle hills
The rays glint on towers and large maison
Soil remains wet, a good dousing it had
Awaiting its equilibrium from the sun.

Hunting for a monster (a tongue in cheek song)

It's that time again
My resistance is poor
And tummy is rumbling
Craving for more

I'm in need of a snack
Though I've just had lunch
Hoping not to crack
Please give me something to munch

Chorus
Snacking time, is a happy time
Whats your favourite treat?
Pickled onion corn snack
Monster Munch - you're hard to beat!

The emptiness catches me unaware
Panic makes me stop
All the cupboards now seem bare
Quick! to the corner shop

Chorus
Snacking time, is a happy time
Whats your favourite treat?
Pickled onion corn snack
Monster Munch - you're hard to beat!

I survey the bursting shelves
Are the crisps at the back?
Ah Monster Munch at my 12
But wait, a Nik Naks multipack?!

Chorus
Snacking time, is a happy time
Whats your favourite treat?
Pickled onion corn snack
Monster Munch - we are you shaped like feet?

Monday 8 October 2012

Miracle of Monday


Stepping from the taxi, he waves, full of glee
Attention to an occupant veiled by tinted glass
A beaming smile, a bounce, and off he struck
Scarcely a glance to the space of the departed
Curiosity of bystanders of this open joy
Out of place in this Monday mundane
What has made this man so alive?
A deal won, a friendship rekindled
Perhaps an afternoon romp or tryst
Envy of his sated state bites briefly
His excitement fading, like him from view.

Forbidden

Scanning the vista of delights
His eyes on automatic, pre-programmed for attraction
You need to have specifics when faced with this beautiful bounty
Succulent inside with colourful wrappers
Some catch the eye, bold as they are red
Experience has taught him these can be as sweet as they are sour

He narrows his search, a peachy flesh
And then, hidden by a slender piece in canary, is his desire
Saliva forms in his anticipation
A smile forming with his rising heart beat
He reaches for her, hand slightly trembling
The curves of her body holding his gaze
Smooth and toned skin, his fingertips discover

The others part momentarily as he grasps her, pulling her close
Space she occupied, retaken in that instant
Perfume of sweet enjoyment reaches out to his nostrils
Inhaling the fragrance, this temporary narcotic

Closer now, right in front of him, skin to skin
Just lingering there increases his arousal
Should he remove her pale green outfit, or take her as she is, in his lust
His lips kiss her neck, dry to his wet
Overwhelmed by his longing to have her

He’d had others like her before and many left him satisfied and comforted
Would she be the same or maybe even better?
Impatient to feel her flesh he moves in closer, primed to make his move
Devouring her, he digests her succulent juices
Too much for him running about his face
Climaxing at her taste, he pulls away
She seems different now
And it dawns on him, what a lovely pear!

Sunday 7 October 2012

Clinging


The waves crash upon the shore
Like the cuts to my heart you tore
As the tide begins to recede
Memories of our life, I long to believe.

Saturday 6 October 2012

Alone (a stab at a song)

Dark clouds are drawing close and near
Yet you are far away from here
The simple things I miss the most
Your tooth brush, your name on the post

Chorus
Exploring the past seems a fruitless game
Was either of us solely to blame?
The truth remains that you have gone
I’m still wondering for how long?

From the clouds pours the rain
I start to feel the fullest pain
Words that I should have said to you
My lack of action made you blue

Chorus
Exploring the past seems a fruitless game
Was either of us solely to blame?
The truth remains that you have gone
I’m still wondering for how long?
Bridge
You’re not the first, though I wished the last
My heart's in tatters, the dies been cast
I tried too hard to play it cool
Now I’m left a broken fool

The rain has eased the clouds hang around
I wander bewildered, about this town
Desperately searching for your face
Reality says you’ve left this place

Closing Chorus
Exploring the past seems a fruitless game
Was either of us solely to blame?
The truth remains that you have gone
I still kid myself it won’t be for long?

So once again I’m all alone
Another victim - witness - far gone

PoetryNovice 2012

Beach patrol


The powerful effect of sun and beach
Scantily dressed women, men on heat
Vacation removes troubles, helps you relax
Closer together, sexual to the max

And still men in speedo's patrol the beach
The hot twenty somethings, so far out of reach
The slightest gaze makes him feel great
Oblivious to the paunch, southward gravitates

Thinking he looks a million dollars, acting real cool
Hovering near girls, not seeing the fool
Believing this life is rich and his to take
Unwilling to recognise his desires are fake
Reality hits him, removes his charm
As a younger suitor takes her arm.

Simple indecision


He caught her looking at him
He wondered what it meant
Her beauty was outstanding
She must be heaven sent

He broadened his smile
He wanted to say hello
The moment slipped by
He would never know.

Friday 5 October 2012

Homebound


Home beckons, some minutes more
Dusk battles with the coming of night
A white backdrop losing its way to grey, then charcoal
Light drizzle to welcome us serial commuters, on this autumn eve.

Humble late night snack

The uneven surface of small bumps and plains
Irregular burnt colour has caught it in the main
Sturdy and unattractive to look and hold
To spread or place food upon it, is only for the bold
It has many rivals, water and Hovis
With purpose to remain firm and crisp
Until that first bite, usually through cheese
The explosion of cracker, a simple palate to please
Devastation of what remains is left to chance
Cracks in the flooring, now a skill of balance
Too much pickle and it's a sticky end
This fragmented snack - lovely - drives me round the bend.