Pill Popping?

Reminders

Like little press studs,
each line of bubble-pack pills
has been popped open;
They marked the days of the week,
no need for a calendar.

Conundrum

Question;
does a lock keep
you in, or others out?
Perhaps the answer lies within
the key.
Power
of posession
belongs to he or she
who has sole rights of ownership...
Unless,
of course,
the locksmith made
his choice by providing
more than one of these magic tools.
Stalemate!

Three cinquains locked together for Tess and her Mag 172

Wake Up Call

Liquid notes
fly up to heaven
and the wings
of song lift
the spirits of all who hear
this day's dawn chorus.



Thanks to Tess at The Mag for giving us a picture by Morris Graves , from which I took this section to use as inspiration.

Songbirds

Nightingales
illuminate night
with their song
while moths dance,
enchanted by star-bright notes
which fill the darkness.


Thanks go to Tess for a black and white image on the Mag,  entitled Ponytail, by Last Extra, in which I endeavoured to instill a little colour, if not music, for this simple shadorma - an unrhymed verse form of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllables.

But then I looked again at the original photo
and decided to have another go at a smoke related offering, even though I have never had a cigarette in all my life, I can see it as a metaphor for love that's gone up in smoke!
But I did need to look at it the other way up...

Smokescreen

A fag end of a day;
black thoughts curl away
and leave charred
remains. It's hard
when love goes wrong
and its song
drifts
in wisps
of smoke which leave
eyes stinging. We've
come to a point where it
makes sense to quit...
but they don't make patches
which match
love's affliction;
a different addiction.

Dandelions

Life force
from gold petals
spawns fairy-clock seeds
in clusters, waiting for a waft
of wind.

Perhaps
some flower whorls
are harvested instead
by a maker of wine-heady
liquid...

Its taste
will please the tongue,
but maybe not the head.
If taken to excess, beware
it's strength!

Cinquains to tell it like it is for Tess at the Mag 169, where she featured Lighthouse Dandelions by Jamie Wyeth from which I took this snippet for inspiration.

Sci Fi

Fantasy
from another world;
distant sun.

The photo by Togan Gokbakar which Tess chose for her Mag 168 sent me off on an artistic trip! LOL. Thanks, Tess!

Violets

Kim, with Real Toad's mini Sunday prompt shot me back to my earliest days, and thanks to an eBay photo, I've even been able to show you the kind of thing that caught my attention, in my Aunty's bedroom way back when...

A flower decked flask prompted me
to ask " Auntie Glad, what's in there?"
and she placed it in my hands, saying
 " Pull out the stopper, and see.
But take care!" 

Around it, bands of green and brown
topped painted flowers and leaves,
and I opened it and breathed in the scent
of Devon Violets for the first time.
I wished it had been mine!  But from that day,
the perfume and colour found its way into my soul.

Unfinished

Voyage of Discovery

Bare bones lightning sketch,
tree branch arms;
face in focus.

Sky eats hair,
devours softer beauty,
leaves stark silhouette unsexed.

Result?

Uncomfortable wake of abandonment
follows artist on imagination's ocean
as her ship sails.

When I saw this Mary Cassatt's painting which Tess chose for her Mag 167 I was  overwhelmed by a sense of 'something not quite real' - possibly created in part by the title.  If it had been called 'Le Spectre de la Rose' after the ballet by that name, it would have caused me no problem. But 'Young Woman Picking The Fruit Of Knowledge'? That disturbed me. Hence my strange, not-quite-real-non-poem, poem for today.

 

A Fond Farewell

"Goodbye" to April - soon "Hello" to May!
We've come to the end of a poem a day -
that NaPo - type madness which kept us at work
with imperative dictates we didn't dare shirk.

Some followed prompts found in Blogland at large;
some allowed random ideas to take charge.
But whatever the source, the outcome was plain,
a poem's a poem, some kind of word game.

A writer will play it with ardour and zest
till he finds that one word which surely is best
to convey his intention, pass on his thoughts
to the reader whose kind approbation is sought.

Though that's not the whole reason we pick up a pen,
or dash to a keyboard to pound it again;
when our inspiration comes from the muse
who prods us to action, we've no time to lose.

We have to obey such a summons, 'tis true -
what else could a dyed-in-the-wool poet do?

# 29

Before The Future

Poets were called to arms;
NaPoRiMo beckoned them on April Fool's Day.
Tomorrow pens will run dry.

An exceedingly apt prompt over on Haiku Heights was too good to pass by this morning! We've nearly made it, folks!

# 28

Kerry of Real Toad's fame, set us searching for our favourite quote from Harper Lee's wonderful book "To Kill a Mockingbird." For added inspiration, she include a still from the film, and how could I resist an excuse to look at Atticus Finch again? :) This was my choice:-

 “People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for.”

The day is dull and overcast;

rainclouds fight the sun.
But I look and see a rainbow -
aren't I the lucky one?

The traffic thunders on the road -
but is that all I hear?
No! Close by a blackbird trills
its song that I hold dear.

It's all about perception;
this point of view we choose,
and if we seek the positive,
what do we have to lose?

Why, just the stress and anguish
that pessimism brings
to you, or me - or even
to 'cabbages and kings!'

With thanks also to the Walrus and the Carpenter, to whom Lewis Carroll gave a wonderful perception all their own. :)

And NaPoRiMo has definitely got me going, for there's a second write for today here!

# 27

Before The Front Door

A living carpet overspills this path.
Leaves speckled like a thrush's breast:
flowers - pink, to blue, to shades of purple  -
grace each stem: Pulmonaria.

Its common name of lungwart dis-enchants
me. But the humble beauty of this plant's
soft, multi-coloured shades is paramount,
this lazy, sun-filled afternoon in April.

Making a scalloped edge to the old bricks,
it provides a guard of honour for people
approaching the stained-glass panelled door
of this elegant, Victorian house.

Inside, a welcome will await those visitors
who pass the flowers by, unseeing...

# 26

Slugs V. Daffs

When slick-faced, coal-pit slugs abound
using instinct's guile to nibble
and to help create the daffodils' demise,  
inhale with sadness fragrances
left scenting springtime air,
and store them in your memory,
a treasured, silent prayer.                    

Though yellow petals lose their fight,
with buds and blooms destroyed,
green leaves will feed the swelling bulbs,
their energies employed in conservation   
till next Spring, when flower blooms
will live again, a second generation...

# 25

What A Carry On

The thirty days in April
must have gone to all our heads -
"Go write a poem every day!"
was what somebody said.
But I wish I'd added on this thought
"What could we do instead?"

"Most anything" did someone say?
Yet here we are, day after day
churning out poetic verse -

what a carry on!

For some, it's gone from bad to worse
but at least we'll soon be done.
So in the meantime, I will say
"Come on folks. Carry on!"

Although I had already scheduled a post for this morning, an unexpected discovery of the words 'Carry on' at Poetry Jam, had me rushing to slot in this early morning offering - no offense meant, fellow NaPoRiMo fanatics! LOL