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
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
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,
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 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.
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.
Facing my face in the mirror
I find it far from flattering.
I realise that realistically
I can only reflect on my reflection.
I can’t actually see my face.
Thank goodness I think to myself.
Were those ghastly chin hairs growing yesterday?
I turn to the tweezers.
Is that a mole or a mosquito bite?
Maybe it’s just a mark on the mirror.
All those wretched wrinkles!
Wait – they’re laughter lines.
Grin and get on with loving life woman.
Water Prompt – A tanka poem
Boarding the old boat
Families seeking new lives
Refugees at risk
Corruption giving false hopes
The boat splinters, drowning dreams.