How I love the month of April,
As Spring explodes and wakes from sleep;
Days get longer, blossoms linger,
Coo at ducklings and baby sheep.
Easter heralds this New Life story,
When Christ is raised now in glory.
o
Day 28 – Sijo
Day 27 – American sonnet
Beauty beholden
What beauty has my heart beholden today?
Contoured horizons of fir rich hills,
Baby-green flora in budding Spring growth
and the giggles of families out in sun-kissed April.
The beauty of frescos on medieval church walls,
The fragrance of hawthorn and freshly mown grass,
The joy of reunion in the eyes of an old friend
and the panoramic view of an orange sun sinking through a peach-melba sky.
The beauty of meeting a stranger’s selfless heart
and the wonder of understanding when trust fills its part.
And what beauty beheld my eyes at the close of this glorious day?
A platter of tasty delicacies to welcome this hungry traveler.
DAY 26 – alliteration?
Up with an early alarm
at unearthly O’clock
anxious about arriving
a l’heure for the Express.
The coach comes quick enough
comforting the crowd
Can I find a cosy corner
to catch a nap if it’s allowed.
The airport’s fully buzzing,
as I’m checking in with Wizz
everywhere is busy
and bustling with kids.
The flight feels familiar
I’ve flown this way before
feet finally on foreign soil
to find my friend at the door.
Day 25 – Questions!!
Day 25
Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem based on the “Proust Questionnaire,” a set of questions drawn from Victorian-era parlor games, and adapted by modern interviewers. You could choose to answer the whole questionnaire, and then write a poem based on your answers, answer just a few, or just write a poem that’s based on the questions.
I’m cheating today, as I have no time to stop and be creative, but I recall a poem I wrote 9 years ago, in which the me of that time answers a lot of those questions.
The poem is very raw and honest.
I’m happy to say that much of this is now truly healed.
Pain
Physical pain of bitter, constant cold, hunger,
slaps, canes and beatings
Fear, terror of these – fear of annihilation, fear of pain.
Fear of death, knives and guns
Unpredictable,
threatening,
lurking
– a Russian roulette..
Fear of emotional pain, emotional torture
Cos it’s all my fault.
I am bad, wrong, a burden
I owe them,
I must repay and make it better
But I cannot –
I’m not good enough, big enough, strong enough or clever enough.
Lonely, empty, lost and afraid,
wandering, day-dreaming, alone.
Looking for comfort, for friendship, for warmth, safety, acceptance…
I need to escape, to hide, to somehow survive and get away –
but where to?
I focus on the beauty around me
Beauty of amazing, glorious mystery
Creation – so delicate, vulnerable, persistent and powerful –
A gift into my emptiness.
I love the world and all of creation.
I want to love and to serve
I seek to rescue those in pain
to come alongside, help and hold them.
I am blessed with friends, family and God –
without them I would be long since destroyed!
But I am still so desperately lonely, cold, empty, small and afraid.
I escaped the physical pain,
but the bruises and scars remain
Tender, whilst the taste and strength of fear still paralyse.
Daily I hear the echo of lies and labels
How long will I let them define who I am and who I can be?
Busyness fills some of the emptiness –
work, relationships, learning, doing
doing, doing…
Big Dawn can do some of this, she can wear this mask for a while,
As long as she hides and does as she’s told.
Being hurts, so I kill the pain.
A bottle or two of Shiraz, a pint or 10 of ale –
it lessens the crippling fear as darkness falls,
it drowns the mocking voices,
dulls the heart pain,
chases the memories,
rebukes those stupid, dangerous tears
and lets me dance and live…
Or does it?
Was it me I was trying to kill?
Kill the ‘good for nothing’ Dawn?
They can’t blame me if I’m dead.
They can’t hurt me if I’m gone,
gone to where every tear is wiped away and pain is no more.
The anaesthetic has worn off now and I feel it all…
raw.
No wine to ease the pain of feeling,
no husband to distract and hold my body,
no work to busy my mind…
But I am holding to the promise:
‘plans to prosper you, to give you hope and a future’*
I have support in place,
I have all I need –
now it is time to do the work!
I will employ Ms Haynes to help my little girl –
she will guide, hold and encourage both little D and mummy D
She can care for us and keep us safe
She can put her knowledge and experience to good use
She will draw on Wisdom, Truth and common sense..
Jesus, You were so sad as to death,
but You did the work.
You know how I feel –
And you love me despite my fear and mess.
I invite You again to enter the space I have made for you
to fill my emptiness
I ask You to heal my brokenness and pain
joy instead of mourning;
praise instead of heaviness’ *
and to exchange the fear for the miraculous power of Your LOVE.
I choose to let go of fear, of the past, of darkness
I lay hold of forgiveness, healing and life
I welcome Grace and Mercy
and I choose to share them wherever you take me..
– 6 weeks without alcohol at age 50. (12/04/2015) * Jer. 29:11; Isaiah 61:3
Day 24 – ‘You are old’
Day 24 – ‘You are old’
NaPoWriMo prompt: Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that begins with a line from another poem (not necessarily the first one), but then goes elsewhere with it. This will work best if you just start with a line of poetry you remember, but without looking up the whole original poem.
My time is short and rushed and so is this poetic response.
It is the first poem that came into my head, that I always loved – I hope you can recognise the original from the rhythm.
‘You are old, Nana D’, young Caleb mused,
‘So why are you playing with toys?
‘It’s alright for us, as we are excused,
‘But that Lego is meant for us boys!’
‘When I was small’, I simply replied to the lad,
‘Lego didn’t exist.
‘So I played in the trees, which was all that I had;
now the Lego I just can’t resist!’
Day 23 – Born to be heroes
NaPoWriMo prompt: And now for our (optional) prompt. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem about, or involving, a superhero, taking your inspiration from these four poems in which Lucille Clifton addresses Clark Kent/Superman.
Born to be heroes
We are born to be heroes
All precious pearls
As kids we all know
we CAN change the world
My first son was superman
He had the whole suit
and a heart for adventure
for rescue and pursuit.
The second was Buzz Lightyear
with the flashing and the style
He had greatness in his purpose
the cunning and the smile.
They were powerful and mighty
invincible and strong
with these it wasn’t likely
that anything could go wrong!
My boys are both grown up now
and they’ve outgrown their suits
but they still are my heroes
in much bigger boots.
And now I have grandchildren
who have followed the same course
he’s a Spidey or a Ninja
and she’s a princess with force.
They too are my heroes
adding joy and delight
They’ll always be super
for the rest of their lives.
But we are all heroes
superbly designed
masterpieces of grace
to bless all of mankind;
Princes and princesses
each destined with a place
of greatness and power
with His magnificent grace.
We are born to be heroes
All precious pearls
As people we should know
we CAN change the world.
Day 22 – Scrap!
NaPoWriMo prompt: The idea is to write a poem in which two things have a fight. Two very unlikely things, if you can manage it. Or perhaps your two things could be linked somehow – like a rock and a hard place – and be utterly sick of being so joined.
Battle of heart and mind
Scrap! Scrap!
Snide bickering feelings
concealing resentment;
a critical poke
rubbing in the lies
heart doubts –
did you really say that?
Scrap! Scrap!
Heart and mind friction
subtly –
Why can’t you be kind?
It’s all-out war!
Mind, I know it’s true,
I think…
Think, think…
What if?
Let the head choose
Forgive
Love
It’s the right thing to do.
Scrap! Scrap!
You’re not to be trusted
Nowhere is safe –
Poison is choking –
Don’t be vulnerable!
Heart, hide again.
Scrap! Scrap!
Knock down the walls,
He keeps His word.
Come out!
Soften up
and give Him your heart
You can trust Him.
Shalom.
Day 21 – GOLD
NaPoWriMo prompt: Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that repeats or focuses on a single colour.
Day 21 – Golden
Crowns, coin and candlesticks
bangles, bells and bling;
crowns and rings,
fit for Kings
festooned with golden things.
But all that glitters is not gold
is what we’re told
so come behold
a blessing not withheld
from sons and daughters of the King.
A field of corn before the harvest
invested love and sun-kissed skin
reaping sheaves
of autumn glory
holding honeyed hues within.
Old and gold the years enriched
the cracks kintsugi painted
the golden lines
embossed so fine
they never shall be tainted.
So late into our golden years
from amber dawn to gilded glow
purified in winter’s flames
the blazing sun shall curtsy low
in silent applause.
Day 20 – Whose story?
NaPoWriMo prompt: to write a poem that recounts a historical event. In writing your poem, you could draw on your memory, encyclopedias, history books, or primary documents.
Day 20 – Whose story?
Information’s rather scarce
the deeper we delve back
carbon dating gives some clues
but details we lack.
Moving to the written word
and records of some facts
helps us to begin to picture
how peoples thought and act.
So browsing through these archives
of history as we know it
how would I pick an era
to regale a budding poet?
So may stories written down
some were in the news –
Romans, Saxons, Tudor times
how am I gonna choose?
But I was born in sixty-five
and in history books I read
I see photos from my life
so I have to concede –
that I’M a piece of history
and as a primary source
not of his-story, but my story
I’m an expert, of course!
Day 19 – A lonely haunt
NaPoWriMo prompt: What are you haunted by, or what haunts you? Write a poem responding to this question. Then change the word haunt to hunt.
I’m not haunted by anything, except possibly the possibility of regret. I would hate to find myself regretting something I’d done or not done and now can never put right.
Maybe this is why Christ’s forgiveness, and mandate of such, is so all-important, central to me?
FMF prompt word: LONELY.
I won’t do another FMF, but will write a Haiku to link haunt and lonely.
Haiku 1
I think the only
thing that could ever haunt me –
if you were lonely.
Haiku 2
Many are my fears
but the one that would haunt me –
my lack of courage.
Haiku 3 – inspired by Martin Niemöller’s famous and important words
I will speak speak for you
when you face persecution.
Will you speak for me?
Haiku 4
To not hear the words
‘Well done good, faithful servant’ –
on reaching heaven.
Haiku 5
Haunted or hunted,
they would never come for me.
I’ve nothing they want!
Haiku 6
To sum this all up
about what would haunt me most –
t’is to have regret.
NB: To see other responses to the FMF prompt, LONELY, see below
dawnfanshawe 