Poem 46

Posted on November 12, 2013 by Michael

waking-up

I wake at odd hours

Glance at my clock

It never lies

Never what I want to see.

I want the hours to pass

For the darkness to end

I can’t wait for the dawn.

That moment when you realise

A new day is emerging.

The arrival of first light

Brings a flurry of activity,

Letters to read, letters to write

Comments to make and replies to address

Laughter and mirth

Satire and comment

Smiles all round at the HA’s and the LOL’s.

Then the clock rudely interrupts

Without compassion

Tells me

Be quick

Out of bed mister

Your day has begun

There’s work to be had.

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Sunday Photo Fiction – Hulk

Posted on November 10, 2013 by Michael

GEDSC DIGITAL CAMERA

I am reminded of a ship I once saw in the little bay at Rhodes. It lay there rotting and over the years I noticed the continuing deterioration of this once majestic vessel.

I asked myself on more than one occasion why it was that this boat was left to rot.

Surely at some point it was a much loved craft, capable of riding the seas in all weather, capable of carrying cargo, of transporting people, and even of saving the lives of others.

I once stopped by the waters edge and looked closely at its hull that bobbed about in the water. There was just a shell now; it was imagination that conjured up images of majesty and finery.

I looked it up one day in the archives; the name it went by was the ‘Bass Explorer’. It had once been a trader along the east coast and down into Tasmania. It crossed Bass Strait innumerable times and now no longer in commission was left to decay, and eventually sink. Which I thought was a better end to its life than the fate of others, which were set alight, and left to burn to the water line.

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Prompt 29: Rorshach Test – Cockroaches

Posted on November 10, 2013 by Michael

rorshach

Dear Doctor Fixall,
Thank you for seeing me today. I have studied the image you have given me and I think I have unearthed the source of my issues.

I have a morbid fear of cockroaches.

That’s what I see when I look into this image, cockroaches, hundreds of the crawling insects and worst of all crushed ones.

I shiver in horror whenever I think of one. I cannot walk around my house at night without shoes in fear that I may step on one. The stepping on one is bad enough but it’s the crunch when my weight crushes it that I so hate.

It’s the flurry of their tiny fragile legs against my feet that I so recoil from. A friend was recently in the terrible position of stepping on one in her house, in her bare feet, and it caused quite a disturbance within her. I can still see her screams of fright and disgust vividly on my computer screen, even now weeks later, her revulsion still resonates within me.

I spray everywhere I go, they aren’t very keen on surface spray I have found. But I can’t get rid of them. Every morning I put on my reinforced rubber boots and go on roach patrol around my house, my spare rubber shoe in one hand, can of spray in the other. When I determine it’s safe I go out and conduct a cleanup, long handle dust pan and brush, pick them up and out they go,

The children remain in bed until its all clear and clean. Then I let them out.  They too are on constant alert should one have slipped through my steely reconnaissance.

Despite my revulsion of them I do admire their resilience. They don’t go away, do they? But they learn. I once put roach mats down to catch them but within minutes it seemed they had discovered a way round the mats and so avoided them. What a waste of money that was.

My life has become one of constant surveillance; I cannot relax in my own home for fear of one appearing and wreaking havoc on my children and me.

I know they are but small crawling insects and I shouldn’t fear them as I do, but they have so infiltrated my life that I now understand the reason for my anxiety and overall depression.

Can you help me Doctor?

 

For mindlovemisery’s latest prompt at: http://mindlovemisery.wordpress.com/2013/11/10/prompt-29-rorshach-test/

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Ligo Haibun Challenge – Faery

Posted on November 10, 2013 by Michael

faerie

I am sitting in the corner of the room; the troll has been rampaging for some hours now. It is to do with my not completing my assigned task.

I am terrified at having attracted his ire, and so early in the day. He is obviously having a bad day and when that happens his anger comes my way.

I am the worst of the worst so it seems. His arms are flailing, his body sweating and now beginning to smell, the acrid smell that only trolls can emit. I recoil further into corner if I could be invisible right now I would be happy.

Rather I suffer the onslaught of his words which rain on me in torrents, threats of retribution, emotional blackmail at it’s greatest, my person diminished and my being worthless.

Now I am shaking, his words have cut me to the quick, I am pleading, begging for him to cease but he knows he has me now, I am at my weakest, he rains blows greater than before, my self is cracking, I am disintegrating before him. I have one last saviour, across the room, my only friend in this world is waiting, she holds out a hand, I reach out, her faery fingers grasp mine, together we fly out of there, leaving behind my shattered body.

pain and misery

unbearable intolerance

faery guardian

Posted in Haibun Haiku | Tagged , , , , | 35 Comments

Poem 45

Posted on November 8, 2013 by Michael

art balance

My world was once upon a time yellow

My colour of  fear.

It permeated every aspect of life

Day to day

Living and loving

Nothing was exempt.

But my confidence has grown

I am bluer now,

My favourite colour.

I no long suppress emotion

Expressing it in red moments.

Momentary events,

quickly returning to blue.

The fear still exists,

Weaving itself

In and out of daily life.

But today I reflect

And life is greener

Contentment

relaxation,

I am happy when the blue flourishes

And the yellow takes its deserved back seat.

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Poem 44

Posted on November 8, 2013 by Michael

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A bell rings announcing the break

Its lunch and you sit back

Take a deep breath

Relax for a second

It has been an arduous morning

Demands you didn’t anticipate

Question you couldn’t answer

Grief

Sadness

Depression

All in a day’s work.

Your lunch you long for

Leftovers from the casserole last night

You find a small chocolate,

He did remember your concerns for today.

You smile and savour the flavour

Knowing  his fingers

Placed it with love.

Moment to remember

Feel his warmth.

A bell rings, its yard duty time.

 

Across a million miles a small boy awakes

He kicks the dirt around his floor

He wonders if today

Will there be food

Peace.

Last week he saw a picture in a discarded newspaper

A chocolate bar, so delicious, it said

He wonders how?

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Poem 43

Posted on November 7, 2013 by Michael

waiting_by_my_window_by_kedralynn

I sit at the window

Watching the street

You’ll be here

Any minute now.

My heart rate builds

My smile broadens

The buses on time.

Thank goodness.

I see you

In your grey suit

A little dishevelled now

Striding purposefully

Up our path

Door opens,

You call

I turn

You’re back.

We sit,

We chat

Our time, our time begins.

 

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Poem 42

Posted on November 6, 2013 by Michael

drama room

In my space there is space

For games and improvisation

For trying the impossible and making it seem possible.

Play is important

It frees your mind

It bends those rules

That curtail and hinder progress

The ones you have implanted in your mind.

One day you discover a new world

A new view on what happens

And you wonder why it never occurred before

And why the quiet boy is suddenly interesting

And why you can now approach anyone

And ask those questions you once shied away from.

Years later you realise that it was in here

That those skills you now treasure

Were initially formed

And you’re happy now,

And pleased

You walked through that door, all those years ago.

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Poem 41

Posted on November 5, 2013 by Michael

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I watch you across a room

You strut,

You flout,

You don’t care

About the boy in the corner.

He doesn’t exist

He has no opinion.

You care little to pass a second with him

But he watches,

Not fascinated,

But curious

Alive to your voice.

You laugh and joke

You seek attention

Any will do

Any to stem the tide

Of introspection

And discovery.

You don’t want to know what’s in there

So you maintain your mask

Until a moment occurs

Where truth prevails

Your shame.

You want to hide

And you notice the boy

The only one not laughing,

Not party to the ridicule

The humiliation.

He fumbles an hello

You wonder who is this boy

Who doesn’t, who isn’t?

Who looks into your eyes

Takes your hand

And melts your mind.

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Poem 40

Posted on November 4, 2013 by Michael

war

Bombs whistle, explode

Ear deafening

Deafened.

Staring no where

Looking in and seeing

Change

Destruction

Bits gone

Self no more.

Replaced by

An automation.

I eat, I piss, I shit

I never sleep.

No words describe the horror

No words will play in my head

My last letter

Of love and home

‘Mother it’s hell over here.’

All gone

Lost.

Now the pain of living

Fate worse than death

Everyday a reminder

Of what was

Never will be.

What will they say?

What will they make of me?

Now damaged

Stained

Emotionless

Devoid of life, of living.

Locked inside this body

No direction

No nothing.

This poem was written in response to a study of War Literature. Mainly the poetry of World War One.

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