Tuesday, 30 April 2013

(Day 30) Final Poem

Just as you thought
The city had turned into cubes
And our lives had burnt themselves out
Into shadows dropping off the quays
You remember how things were different.

Remember Elm trees
Tied up high fences
Like prisoners of war
And limping trains passing
With open begging bowls.

Helicophers tracking your 
Movements in the skies
And gateposts rattling in the wind
With the slight stench of petals
Twisting like kisses.

Thin palls of mist
Freezing the sunset
And choking the smoke
From the nearby factory
Until it stops,

Swirling in the past

Embracing what comes next.

(Thanks to all for reading. this poem is closure in more than one way.
While i will be glad of the rest, it has been great fun. I have uploaded the collection onto lulu should you wish to buy a hard copy of it - it is here http://www.lulu.com/shop/andy-n/30-poems-in-30-days-2013/paperback/product-20998224.html)

Monday, 29 April 2013

(Day 29) Subtle Escape

Yes, I have no further documents
of my past I can draw on.

No memories left in the ruins
Of my second school
Which almost caused me
A breakdown at 15
Or anything about being at
Youth training 18 months later
Which managed that.

Nothing about working at Macess
In Trafford Park
Or Easi Trim twenty yards up the road
Both of which had me sweeping
Up the car park
During my first day.

Nothing about working in Castlefield Art Gallery
After fleeding my first scheme
After being beat up several times
And frequently getting my hours mixed up
Or Marks Menswear
Who got rid of me on my fourth day
After incorrectly measuring up a customer
And nearly choked him.

Nothing about eight and a half years
At Great Universal at 2 jobs I hated
And a year temping as a kitchen porter
Here, there and anywhere
It becomes like a Jigsaw puzzle
Where I actually worked,

Buried in a maddening kiss
So each place became as much
As a race
But a leap across high fences

A leap from page to page

Life to life

Burying myself constantly
In subtle escapes
From each place

Constantly re-inventing myself.

(Day 29 was sadly wrote before the prompt for today came through which asked us to throw in bits of other languages into the pieces. I did actually try here but the piece told me to forget it and bits of my past instead came into it)

Sunday, 28 April 2013

(Day 28) Aborted Phone Call

I ring you in the usual way
But you drop the phone
When you hear my voice
Leaving me with nothing
But the droning ambience
Of an aborted call.

Perhaps you are still in bed
After a late, late night
I had forgotten you mentioning
You were going on drinking wine
And couldn’t be bothered
Staggering out of bed to
Answer the phone

Or maybe your cat
Has instead of missing
The dressing table
After jumping from your bed
Has jumped over the suite
Onto the window
And knocked the phone flying.

Perhaps it was a BT error
Or you are on the phone
To your mate, Steve
For one of your epic three hour calls
Which frequently has me thinking
What the hell you could talk about
For so long
And is meant to feel minor
When Steve says he sometimes
Talk to one of your ex’s all night long

Or maybe your are rushing off
To the shop across the road
To pay your lottery ticket
Before rushing off to the doctors
Or Asda up the road before it closes
And couldn’t be bothered
Answering my call
At least then.

Either way it still hasn’t
Clouded my love for you.

(Day 28 was a true story from a day or two before
but is a nice poem for my other half, Cathy)

(Day 27) Land's End

Over the cliff I can see
The sea choking itself
Before scattering itself
Over the rocks.

The sun jumping up and down
The tip of the horizon
And it’s rays
Drawing the waves in
Like mermaids
Would tease Sailors,

Twirling with broken rakes
And folding their arms
With a naked burst of sweat
Swaying across broken flowers
And dense, un-scattered sand,

Before bleeding countsleely
On the bay
In a blood soaked sunset.

Arrow driven
At land’s end.

(Day 27 came about from a dream I had stood at Land's End near Cornwall
somewhere I had read about the previous day but alas had never been) 

Friday, 26 April 2013

(Day 26) Skywriting

Skywriting across ripples of wood
And the brow of the hill
Over the horizons of the hotel
Into a review of the waves.

Skywriting across rainbows
Pretending to have fun
Blindfolded into a barrel of
Sniggering windswept giggles.

Skywriting with a ball point pen
Through pateroral scenes
Of short breaks
Before waving goodbye.

Skywriting through Cleverleys
Onto Fleetwood
And past the pensioners
Waiting outside our hotel.

Skywriting in forgotten whispers
With the stones of experiences
And ferries which remind
Tied up in my heart,

Facing the wrong way home. 

(Day 26 is alas another Blackpool poem which came to light today
after watching the writing in this sky this morning)

Thursday, 25 April 2013

(Day 25) Questions without Answers

Maybe it was something
To do with the radio
Blasting out Quo then Robbie Wiliams
And the driver’s out of tune vocals
Dancing across the rain/

The two teenagers asleep at
Just outside the graveyard with the Smiths
Chattering in the rain
Or the tramp shuffling
On the doorstep of the travel lodge.

An now ex friend running late
To pick up her daughter from the childminders
Or the Policeman stood up the road
With a kehab dripping off his jacket
As he tells off a speeding driver.

Street lights turning grey
Then flashing blue
And pub doors clattering shut
Like old western saloon doors
In and out of the wind.

Movements weaving together
In the weather
Like a jigsaw
Before changing halfway completed
To a game of cluedo,

Before hurling themselves
Into the river
Like a cult finally giving up,

 Movements stretched skyward
With umbrellas and caps
Dancing in the heavens
Painted in red blue blood,

Leaving you with more questions
Than answers.

(Day 25 is a kinda the morning after poem after
The previous night with a jigsaw feeling like
A mood that morning as I was left with
A series of questions separated from answers) 

(Day 24) Answers without Questions

Something about the hiss of the rain
And the sound of the taxi door
Stroking our umbrella
Before you empty it all over me.

Something about the moonlight
And the purple skies
Kissing like naked cousins
Drunk on raspberry cider.

Moments stitched together
Clothed in shades of emotion
And rattling shoes
Dripping in rain,

While the sound of the buzzer
Echoes down the hall
Before suddenly slamming shut
In the knife throwing breeze.

(Day 24 was wrote in the middle of still crippling back pain
after a lovely evening meal with my partner when getting out
of the taxi the weather outside looked like a series of answers
without questions ).