Style of Pam Ayres

We had a challenge to write a poem in the style of Pam Ayres.  This is my effort... neither as charming nor as whimsical as an original but I thought it was a reasonable attempt.  Incidentally I am not that bad a cook, though it's true I don't do it often

I often wish I'd learned to cook
A thing so rare that people look
And stare, at the latest thing I've made.
Each ingredient is carefully weighed
And then I mix, and stir, and whip
Try a taste and burn my lip
But stew, or cake, or Yorkshire batter
Whatever I make it just don't matter
Plain home cooking or the latest fad
My dinner will taste especially bad
I'll tell you this, whatever you want
You'd do much better in a restaurant

Bathtime

The kids stayed overnight - they have a lovely time in the bath.  Of course they are not two little boys, but one of each - a bit of poetic licence there as it sounded better!

Water, water everywhere,
The kids are in the bath
So many toys
For two little boys
And a nice warm towel waiting
The rubber duck, it's
lost his quack,
It's floating in a bucket
Lots of splashing, lots of noise
And lots of lots of bubbles
I wish that I was four again
And could wash away all my troubles

Internet

Written from life...

Wasting time on the internet
I know I should be working, yet -
Here’s a picture of a kitten!
Instructions; how to knit a mitten
Someone has said something wrong
Arguing with them won’t take long
I really must check my Facebook
Oh, there’s a thing – must take a look
One quick game of Candy Crush –
Or maybe two, no need to rush
Someone sent me this – sooo funny!
Bank online, now check my money
Oh dear, now I’m running late
Really must start work – oh, wait!
First I’ll book tickets for the train
Check the weather – will it rain?
Oh, I forgot to check my email
Now look at this – that’s such a fail!
Really, really must start work
Wait a minute – see this jerk!
Oh, my goodness a whole day gone
All that time and no work done.

Edges

Sometimes there are edges,
Sharp lines with no blurring
We move from one side to another
And everything is changed

Sometimes there are choices
Stark, with no shades of grey
We pick one side over another
And there is no going back

We walk along the edges
As we navigate our lives
And we do not always know
Where they will take us

We sometimes make a choice
And it leads us somewhere else
If we choose to walk the edges
They will change us

A Visit to the Dentist

I was writing this in my head to distract myself from the drilling...

It felt like it went on for hours
The noise and the smell and the spray
It really was just a few minutes
I went to the dentist today

She told me about all the problems
With my gums and my teeth and my filling
That really was past its sell-by date
It needed a fresh lot of drilling

I then had a mouthful of putty
She told me I needed a crown
All of this poking and prodding
Really was getting me down

And then when it all was finished
The very worst bit of the day
I went to arrange my next visit
They told me how much I must pay!

Cloud Suite III

Back to clouds...

I consider clouds, their range of form and temper
Storm clouds gathering in a darkening sky
Great lowering masses, heavy and grey
Presaging rain to beat upon the earth

Poem for Poppy Rose

On 13th January my niece gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.  Sadly she was stillborn.  I wrote this for them.

Nine months inside the womb, tight curled.
Bud that will never bloom, tight furled.
Forever sleeping, the small whorls of her hands
Leave fingerprints upon our hearts
The faintest trace upon this world.

Cloud Suite II

And number two in the series.  I actually think this is an alright poem, whereas most of the previous stuff has been a bit rubbish.  I like the last line.

I consider clouds, their range of form and temper
High wispy clouds, scudding across an autumn sky
Chased by the wind, portending who knows what
Ice crystals falling, through air too thin for breath

Cloud Suite I

I wrote this after wondering idly about clouds and how they are so varied, and how they seem compared to how they are in reality.  I also thought it might be a good idea to write a series of poems and then I wouldn't be scratting around for ideas every single day.

I consider clouds, their range of form and temper
Small white summer clouds,
Marshmallow fluff in a pure blue sky
Soft and sweet seeming
Imagination paints them thus
Dreaming, we sleep on clouds like down
Warm, soft, cradling us to rest
Yet clouds are strange unknowable things
High, fierce and cold
A cloud would shake you, batter you
Buffet your dreams
You cannot grasp a cloud, or make it hold its shape
Stretch out your hand to hold it, it is gone
Like dreams when we awake

Rainy Day

The first two lines of this are taken from a poem written by somebody else (an ex boyfriend), but the rest of it is mine own, even if a poor thing.  I was walking in the rain when it came to mind

Sometimes I like to wander
Out in the rain and all
Other people head for home
When rain begins to fall

I walk out to my favourite place
And feel the raindrops on my face
And when I'm there I sit and dream
Watching raindrops in the stream

And even though I love the rain
I'm pleased the sun comes out again

You can tell I was starting to struggle...

this is just a little rhyme

Why did I get into this poetry lark?
I sit and I fret 'til it's almost dark
It takes all of my time
And it still doesn't rhyme

With every verse
It keeps getting worse
I'm just going to stop
Even though it's a cop....
Out

Old photos

This was inspired by looking at some old photos, but not those described here, and the family relationships are not mine

These photos are the archeology of our lives
This is me with my grandmother.
I was five and she, she was as old as I am now.
She always seemed so old to me
This is my mother with my daughter,
Her first grandchild, and her mother's eyes stare out at me
This is my mother with her mother
They stand frozen in time, over-exposed but unafraid,
Staring into the camera, hair and dresses caught by the wind
And blurred by time
This is my daughter with her own daughter
Named for my grandmother and with those same bright eyes
Earlier women who I don't remember; formal, stiff and posed
Yet still something to show me who they were
These are the strata of our family
And the bedrock is love

Very overdue homework...

Ok, I posted the backstory to this one on Facebook.  In a nutshell I was set some homework, about 40 years ago.  It was to write a poem, based on a newspaper article,  the article was about a millennia old salamander found perfectly preserved in ice in Siberia.  Never completed, in fact, if I'm honest never started, the story nonetheless stuck in my mind and I finally got around to doing my homework.  This is the result...

Creature of fire, entombed in ice
Dreaming through millennia
You have seen the birth of mountains
And their death, seas encroach
And fall back. The swift pulse of seasons
And the rising tide of life. Only you
Have remained unchanged, unchanging.
And seeing you I feel the universe
Swirl about me, vast and unknowing

Reverse Ophelia

Goodness knows where this poem came from.  It is about somebody who has died, but not a real memory....  I wrote it lying in the bath and I was, for some obscure reason thinking about Lizzie Siddal and Ophelia.  Well, I suppose the connection is fairly obvious, but it's not something I usually think about in the bath.  I guess that got me thinking about dying and this is what I ended up with - a sort of reverse Ophelia.  Sorry, that sounds like a load of rubbish!

The water grows cold around me
As I gaze out the window
At the rapidly darkening sky
And I remember you
And the first time we met
How you smiled at me
How you took my hand
And the last time I saw you
How you smiled at me
How you took my hand
Closed your eyes
And said goodbye

Challenge

This one was a challenge poem - the theme was 'ordinary made poetic' and given that Tracey Emin had had such an artistic success with her unmade bed the subject just leapt out at me....particularly given that I was still lying in mine at the time

My unmade bed, like Tracey Emin's
Is a work of art
Sheet rumpled, just so
The dent in the pillow
Showing where I laid my head
The duvet pushed back
The half read book
Toast crumbs and TJ's pyjama top
The sleeping dog
These traces of my dreams

View from the window

This is just an observational poem, but with a bit of artistic licence... I took the weather from life but added the child and her mother from my imagination.  There were some kids playing with a ball on the football field though, which I think fed into the idea.

Branches black against a near white sky
Bleached by the season
Leached of all blue
A small child in the distance
Running after a ball
Then, almost suddenly
The sky darkens
Bruised with grey
The wind picks up
The child runs back to her mother
And hand in hand
They return home
Just as the rain begins

Day Three

Day three and I think I was already struggling.  This one is very short, but not quite a haiku.  Though most people don't seem to worry too much about the number of syllables.

Sunlight slanting through the window
Sleeping dog on bed
Peace, rest

A Poem a Day

This one is a bit silly... I felt I ought to do something 'rhyme-y', just to show I could




A poem a day
Well, what can I say?
It probably won't rhyme
I just don't have the time
It won't be a villanelle
Oh, what the hell
It won't be a sonnet
Can't spend much time on it
Maybe an ode
Just so I showed
That I really am trying
To keep at least one of my resolutions this year
(Told you it wouldn't rhyme!)

New Year Fireworks

Fireworks, scattering the old year
Burst of light and noise
Brightness for a moment
Falling, vanishing
And gone

Laughter, welcoming the new year
Burst of joy and mirth
Friendship for a moment
Flaring, fading
And gone


This poem was inspired by the false bonhomie we often see at new year.  You go to the pub and strangers, usually pissed strangers, want to be your best mate as midnight chimes....and some of them you are not likely to ever see again.  I don't usually go the the pub for new year any more, because I am a miserable cow....

I do like fireworks though and wish they lasted a bit longer than they do.

This blog....

Sometime towards the end of last year Elizabeth threw out a challenge - to write a poem every day in 2014.  For some reason, known only to myself, I decided to take up this challenge and I have since written something every day.  Not sure that they can always be described as poems, but still...  I know it is only April but it's probably the longest I have ever kept a resolution.  In fact I am such a great procrastinator I often don't get around to making my New Year resolutions until April.  Well anyway they are (mostly) on the Facebook page, but it's difficult to go back to them there so I thought I would put them all into a blog.  That way I can comment on my thought process, such as it is, and say what inspired me, or what the heck I was thinking whilst writing.  It will take me a while to move the poems over (well, not really move them, they'll stay on Facebook too) so bear with, bear with.

Whether you have just stumbled across this blog or are looking at it in response to a request from me I'd really appreciate your feedback on my poems....feel free to be completely honest/very rude if you don't like them.