Transportation

chocolate

 

A sphere of white chocolate

A bright yellow band

An innocent look

Lush in my mouth

Oozes creamy chocolate

Laced with moijito

Melts in my mouth

I close my eyes

Just for a moment

I hear the waves of the sea

Feel the warmth of sun

Cocktails of an evening

Transported back

From this cold place

To paradise

Advertisements

Warmth of my dreams

Blue skies, bright sun

Fast moving clouds

Icy winds

Cold inside

Goosebumps on skin

Where is the summer?

Want to warm up

Shivering all over.

Look at the options

A cuddle is out

The heating is off

Hot coffee

I close my eyes

Think of the heat

The sun on my face

I smile in the warmth

Of my dreams.

Alone

So today is the last day of #napowrimo. However inspired by many people I have decided to see if I can manage a poem a day for longer… who knows how long . Todays Prompt is to take a poem written this month and write the bottom line first until you get to the bottom of the poem which should be the top line.

Here is my backwards poem

bay

He kept his promise

He lifted her down off the rock, kissing her

She looked up and there he was in the distance

Hearing a noise was that his voice in the wind

.

She felt so alone

Where was he? They were going to go crabbing

She could see the crabs playing on the bottom

Gazing down, the deep dark pool swirling around

.

Sun warm on her head

Red skirt fluttering around her bare knees

Her hair flying in the blustery warm wind

Standing barefoot, her feet cold on the smooth rock

I Guess

So today for one month I am joining NaPoWrimo’s one poem a day.

Each day there is a prompt.  So where is todays poem.

Warm up was from this:-  http://venusofnatalie.tumblr.com/post/111465348701/essay-by-bernadette-mayer

.

I guess it’s too late to live on a narrow boat

I guess it’s too late to buy a boat

I guess it’s too late to be boats woman

I guess it’s too late for me to own a boat

I guess I’m too old to work the locks

I guess the dog wouldn’t like the boat

I guess he wouldn’t want to swim in the canal

I guess I could sit on top of the boat and write poems

Will all the inspiration from the water

The ducks, geese and water birds

I guess there are boating poets

I look and find

Jo Bell, she was the Canal laureate,

Living her dream

I could do that, I could be a boating poet

I could write just that moment in time

If I wanted to live on a boat

I would have to give up the house

Change the way I live

Use up all my money

I am not too old to live on the water

The dog would adore the freedom

It’s made me think, long and hard

I might be a narrow boating poet

The House Opposite

The House Opposite

The House Opposite – Rye

.

I am opposite ‘The House Opposite’

Opposite to what? I thought.

Its dark oak panelled doors

Each one exquisitely carved

The old dark handle

And the bright new lock

Set in dark oak frames

Beaten, knocked, gouged.

What stories could you tell me?

With your lamp above the door

Who used to enter you?

And what is it your opposite to?

Are you different from across the cobbled road?

Is it modern where you are old?

So I cross the cobbles

And look to see what the house could see

And Opposite was another house

Almost identical

With the name

‘The House Opposite to Me’.

New, Newer, Newest

Is this new, newer, and newest.

Have I just bought it

Was it just produced?

A new book, a film, a song

Is it a kind of now exiting?

Or appearing for the first time.

It’s not a new concept,

But new knowledge, just found

Its newness is unfamiliar,

It’s strange, a new idea

A visit to a place

New to me, will it make me better

Different,from the former me.

A fresh new start, unused

Will I be a new me?

So in a new era, a new world,

Planted with newness around me.

Flowers growing, fresh green grass,

New buds wakening,

The spring is here,

A new person awaits

So I ring out the old

And sing in the new