Wow – what a challenge this is. My brain hurts!! Day 8 of the poetry challenge asks us to use the word/ concept of ‘pleasure’ and to use ‘anaphora’ which means using the same word or phrase at the beginning of each verse….. so here it is.

The pleasure of buying a gift for a friend

Hoping they’ll like it and

Not just pretend.

The pleasure of reading a really good book

Then passing it on to someone who will cook

You a fabulous meal ‘cos they know

You hate cooking.

The pleasure of living and loving

And looking.

A ‘found’ poem from ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ (with flavour!)

After a time she heard a pattering of feet.

They began running when they liked

and stopped when they liked.

In that direction.

The direction of the delicious flavour.

The flavour of the stolen tarts.

Prompt: screen – enjambment

Behind the screen

she undresses.

Embarrassed that the doctor

is a man.

Too late to

back out now.

She closes her eyes and

holds her breath.

‘You can get dressed

now,’ he says,

‘you’re definitely

pregnant.’  Forgetting herself,

she hugs him.

‘

Imperfect – a limerick

My writing’s imperfect I know.

Procrastination’s my foe.

I dither around,

But at times I have found

That some startling ideas start to flow.

My Journey

My journey isn’t a long one.

It doesn’t take me to other countries, other times,

Except in my head.

Using my ‘pensioner gold card’ I board the train.

Travelling from the south coast of New South Wales

To the city of Sydney, I read whatever my current ‘read’ is.

At the moment it’s Stephen King’s ‘Danse Macabre.’

Reflecting on old horror films I imagine the Sydney Opera House

Covered in slime.

Those shell-like structures defaced by gruesome giant snails.

A mollusc-like monument.

What a story that could be – maybe I’ll write it – one day.

Friend

Feline companion, you treacherous soul,

Rubbing against me yet plotting to roll

In my basket of clothes, leaving white fur on black.

Empathy cat you most certainly lack.

Nor do you care where you sharpen your claws – yet

Dear friend I confess that my heart is still yours.