So it's over! I had hoped to go out with a bang rather than the whimper of poems which I have produced but hey ho. I'll stick these two up and then in a few days when I've had time to let the dust settle I'll write a blog post about the whole process; for the one or two people who I haven't driven away.
The prompt for number 29 was to write a 28 line Cento using lines from the past 28 poems which you'd written, which I loved.
#30 was to write about something which happens again and again and the poem I wrote is probably one of the weakest of the lot.
#29 Poor Bloke
Dead fox round the neck
it’s just gone midnight
now in your pub
in the dodgy end of town
long past last orders
didn’t realise it would be this hot
what if he cocked it up,
he could try cutting down his drinking
there’s only so much social commentary people can stomach
he hates crying
no time to write
about British wars
an empty bottle of Brewdog
tapping the top
he smoothes the breast of his new cardigan
wants to give a good impression
overcome by a sense of imminent doom
he sees the chemist in a neck brace
carrying a map of all the lights in the house
why is life going fast and faster?
yes it is
whose airway will close first?
he thought he would feel like he had more control
the fox eyes him pityingly.
#30 – Sweat and Wolf Whistles
Blisters, burns, cramps and stiches
dogs that hate lycra
child shaped tripping hazards
mud and rain and sore knees
weighing up how much
you’d enjoy a few miles off road
against how likely you are to be attacked
starting down the Great Central Way
at the sign of a swagger
having your phone open
when you pass the bin men
ready to snap the worst offenders
when they smile and turn away
insect to the eye, ear, nose or throat
the weather not doing what it promised
tunnel vision on the meadows
5k from home
putting one foot in front of the other