What Was Left Books some stacked some strewn split in to two distinct categories space, monsters and Neil Gaiman social commentary, unread classics and bad book club choices DVDs, similar 47 varieties of tea gargantuan telly appalling but easily gotten used to enough dog care paraphernalia to think the creature was human toothbrush organic calming spray sun lotion drawfuls of medication all under her name notebooks x 100+ a stash of still wrapped nick nacks hidden a pit of ch
After another weekend of birthday celebrations I haven't managed to get these online fast enough so here's three in a row. Notes From The Allergy Clinic We sit too close sleeves rolled up resisting the urge to itch resenting the ‘no phones’ rule as our arms blister waiting to see whose airway will close first. Poodle 3 ½ legs bad breath Russian hat can expand to the size of one half of a double bed when required can push your head off the pillow at 2am with one paw eyes close
Today's prompt was to write a poem based on something(s) over heard I Saw It On Instagram because they’re telling us to eat fruit but actually it’s really bad for you have you tried lemon juice? turmeric would clear that up cut out dairy cut out citrus cut out carbs are you drinking enough water? maybe you should cut down drinking? my aunt swears by homeopathy blueberries positive thought vitamin D vitamin D vitamin D but she’s a vegetarian vegan raw fruitist have you not tri
Working Late Microwaved curry pile of washing cold tea sent the last email clicked submit on that dreaded application last minute prep for Year 5 workshop in the morning laptop logged off kettle waiting when I remember with a thud I have yet to write today’s sodding poem.
This morning's prompt on The Poetry School website was towrite a bad poem. Luckily I have years of experience to draw from. A complete list of the themes covered in my poems between the years 2007 – 2010 Boys always boys suggesting not one had yet made it to puberty wine red wine drunk in a capacity to worry my mother. Good. Dark streets lonely hours sleepless nights usually spent inexplicably naked tequila smoking smoking smoking smoking sex but only metaphorically just in c
Is it a coincidence that my birthday weekend hangover has cleared and Theresa May's called a General Election? Who knows. I'm just grateful it's another day when the poem has written itself. Excuse me, Mr Corbyn. Theresa’s on the phone. Organic marrow in one hand a thirst of social justice in the other he smoothes down the breast of his cardigan excuses himself from the meeting of UK cheese makers and rises.
Yesterday was my birthday, I woke up with a sore head and after a prosecco breakfast had no motivation to write a poem and today has been much the same (minus the boozy breakfast). Yesterday’s was a total cheat without looking at a prompt; today’s prompt on The Poetry School website was to write an Aphorism – so basically a witty one liner. Mine isn’t witty or a one liner but just something my niece said that I might want to come back to. #16 – Every time we get ID’d together