555 Days... The Continuation

Welcome to 555 Days as a Poet by The Crafty Scribe

Back in 2010, I challenged myself to write a poem or a short verse a day, and post it to a blog. 555 Days as a Poet by The Crafty Scribe is the continuation of the experiment.

I gave myself 18 months to recover from the original daily blog postings, and now, I am ready to start it all over again. Although as I was beginning in the middle of the year, I thought 6 months was too short a time after my last experience.

"If I could complete a year of poems, how about 18 months?" I thought. I worked out that would be 549 days. I could have rounded it up to 550 to included New Years Day 2014, but then I thought I'd go 5 better... to 555 days.

Why 555? According to many spiritual teachers, the number 555 is a sign of change and the flow of energy. I thought it related to the blog. I spent a year writing a poem every day, then rested for 18 months. Now the tide has turned. It's time to begin the flow of words in my life again.

I'm not a trained poet, just an enthusiastic scribe wanting to create something new each day. I don't truly know my stanza from my meter, but I hope to improve and get my poetic license someday! Expect the weird, the strange and the inner workings of the Crafty Scribe's mind. Let's ride the waves once more.

Please pass on the blog address to all your verse and lyrical loving friends. I hope you will join me, and read my daily scribbling.

Thursday, 12 September 2013

"She Kept Her Eyes Shut" (Entry 435)

She kept her eyes shut,
As nurse went about her busy-ness. 
She kept her eyes shut,
Wanting to be left awhile longer. 
To linger in dreams before the din. Monotonous routine of day screamed in. 

She kept her eyes shut,
To stave off the relentless chatter
the nurse would rattle as soon as knew she was awake. 
She kept her eyes shut,
And listened to metal clatter on metal,
Dull clank of glass to ceramic grazed.  
The judder and jar of her bed as the head was raised. 

Cover blown! Eyes open. Banter began,
As sheets were shed to be replace by crisper and cleaner. 
Along with flurry of washcloths and water,
Made her cleaner too. 
She shut her eyes against the blush. 
That rose in cheeks, before
Night gown replaced and smoothed. 
Teeth brushed and then her hair,
With daily compliment about colour so fair. 

She kept her eyes shut. 
As she was pulled forward to have pillows plumped. 
She lay against the nurse's own plump lavender scented pillows 
Which nestled beneath starched white uniform. 
Laid back in place to catch, 
by cough in throat, 
the whiff of peppermint toothpaste and chewing gum,
Fighting with tobacco base note. 

She turned her eyes and fixed their gaze 
on open windows, curtains caught a breeze. 
Detection of the world out there,
To be seen in and to see,
Experience and be part of,
But that wasn't her place to be. 

She shut her eyes. 
Her life was these four buttermilk glossy walls, white ceiling fan,
The starched smoky nurse 
And the open windows, now fully draped.
She kept her eyes shut. 
Yet, the tears escaped. 

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