April - Poetry Month

This has been left dormant for way too long. Well, I am trying to do April's National Poetry Writing Month over on Livejournal, so I shall post my endeavours here to, on the off chance that anyone reads this who doesn't read that.

As always, if you are so inclined, feel free to donate on the donate button on the sidebar. One of these days I'll get back to the stories.

Today's offering:

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It was a dark and stormy night,
so the stories say.
That's how you know things
are going to go
wrong.
That's the portent for the life-changing
Thing,
the soul-crushing
Blow,
the earth-shattering
Event.
That's what the stories say.

But, for the most part,
it's not dark and stormy.
Sometimes it's not even night.
Sometimes it's just a
quiet afternoon,
a sunny morning,
a softly raining evening.

And the phone rings.

Poetic Interlude 2

In honour of my second sponsor. :)
(No, it's not meant to be you. I just tried to write something I thought you'd like.)


Jack of many hats.


He dances, merrily
flitting through trees
(streetlights?).

He hums
a toe-tapping
finger-snapping
mind-wrapping
tune,
quiet, insiduous.

He darts,
dash of colour,
flash of red diamond
blue diamond
green diamond.
Cane twirling,
Tails whirling,
Mist swirling.

He is story.
And myth.
And magic.
And laughter.
Trickster-god.
Player-man.

Grinning flash of teeth,
and he's gone.

Leaving a hint of song,
ideas floating,
story snippets,
waiting to be caught.

Poetic Interlude 1

In honour of my first sponsor (Thank you! I hope you like it, since you inspired it!):


Pond.

I remember coolness,
the comfort of wet.
Days spent sitting leaf-bound,
musing,
the taste of flies.
The taste of flies being delicious.
Calm. Long sun-drenched afternoons.
Swimming, easy and languid.
Simplicity. This is why I am.
To swim.
To sing.
To leap, spreadeagled against the sky.
To rejoice in rainfall.

Then, a flash of gold, and a favour.
And the awareness of desire.
The encroachment of awareness.
The pang of encroachment.

I don't tell him,
for the sound of the breaking iron,
for the long years of waiting,
for the faithfulness.

I don't tell her,
for the smiling kisses,
for the shining eyes,
for the loving touch.

How I miss the calm,
the cool,
the wet.