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.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts

Sunday, 5 January 2014

"Jim's Tale" (Entry 553)

This is the tattered tale of a cat called Jim. 
He was ragged and scared and painfully thin. 
It started when his owners bought a kitten that year. 
Soon Jim was forgotten, unwanted, thrown out on torn ear. 
Spent his time, touring bins, but they offer a little picking. 
If seen by the humans, he cowered away from a kicking. 

Shaken and frozen, famished day and night. 
Poor moggy Jim lived out his plight. 
Then one fateful eve, when this destitute kitty was near his end. 
He limped to a warm spot for this time to spend. 
Upon a warm grate, he curled up his scrawny lot,
And drifted into dreams right there on the spot. 

He dreamt of smiling faces and cuddles and bowls of fish,
He dreamt of strokes, a fully warm belly, and his own milk dish. 
He dreamt of being lifted and floating in the air,
He dreamt of loud music, coloured lights and an red armchair. 
On and on, as he slept, the perfect dream persisted,
Then Jim realised he was awake, this wondrous place existed!

For he had found rest beside the stage door,
The theatre caretaker taking him in as rain began to pour. 
Slowly, he nursed Jim back to life,
Fed him, cleaned him, no more strife. 
"It's good to see you alert, ma old fella,
It was touch and go there, I'll tells ya!"

"This is your home now. You'll be safe, warm and fed." Frank the caretaker told him. 
"Anyone who finds their way to our door, will never be out on a limb."
"But you'll need to earn yourself a wage. 
By greeting people, and keeping rats from the stage."
Frank smiled and stroked the furry face. "What you think on that?"
Jim blinked and purred. A whole new start. He was now a Theatre Cat! 

Wednesday, 25 December 2013

"Rejoice" (Entry 543)

Stable born this day
Celebrate a life’s new start
Praise, rejoice and sing

*******
Merry Christmas, everyone!

Saturday, 21 December 2013

"Roll End Credits" (Entry 535)

Darkness enveloping behind my eyes, 
rolling in the credits - starring Me - produced by This Day - directed by The Fates. 

It's so late. 

Leaden arms try to heave the carcass up the stairs.
Am I wearing concrete boots?
I don’t remember.
Stare down to bare feet on bedroom carpet,
wearily peeling layers away.
Top layer cardigan worn to stave off the cold.

Try to unbutton a shirt with fingers
that feel as useful as balloon animals.
I wonder if, these are the same that 
deftly moved across the keyboard in rhythmic dance all day?

Eventually, I move to unzip jeans that appear
a size or two smaller than the ones
I jumped into this morning.

Bosom heaved from bra to breathe 
an expanding sigh of relief.
I lie on the bed and do
a horizontal twist 
to remove the last scrap of material from bum and hips.

Snuggle behind the quilt to sleep.
To sleep, with dreams. 
Ahhhhhhh,
What bliss is this!

Credits roll on to The End. 

"Evil Things" (Entry 530)

Throw the tray upon the floor.
What you see, no longer adore.
Soaked screams not what it seems.
For sometimes life brings the evil things.

"A Bridge of Choice" (Entry 522)

A choice.
A bridge.
Old stone.
Sturdy.
Made by craftsmen eons ago.

Walkway rubbed smooth,
white.
Strangely gleaming clean,
by many feet.
A well trodden route.

A pathway used by all.
Eventually.

Can’t make out.
Hazy shapes in unknown shades.
Shifting.
Moving.
There, but not quite.
Step on the bridge,
then the other side to see.

A choice.
Make a choice.
Cross the bridge… or not?

Friday, 20 December 2013

"Together" (Entry 516)

Do not split,
or take away
yourself from me.
Together forever,
Our place
to be.

"Cracked" (Entry 510)

He shouldn’t have taken it.
It was the craic, wasn’t it?
The crack.
Drug of choice.
Thing to do.

Everyone seemed to be having so much fun.
In that bathroom, that stank of urine, vomit and worse.
His life in the toilet, that’s for sure.
Didn’t want to be there.
In the mould, peeling paints, 
and tiptoeing through 
puddles of pathologists future samples.

Stuck in that space,
as a threesome got at it in one cubicle,
a guy heaved up his insides in the next,
and powder and syringes scattered the tiles.
His night on the tiles.

He wanted to be accepted.
Be hip with the in-crowd.
The beautiful people lapped on entrance,
sliding out of staff exits on stinking alleys.
Not so beautiful now.

He dreamt of the moment of acceptance,
drinking champagne in VIP roped areas,
while kissing a gorgeous IT girl,
hiding faces from flash of celebrity snapper.
Why was he feeling ropey as the ‘IT’ knelt in shit.

He never imagined his initiation would be like this,
they urged him to join them, 
whole evening, bouncing off ceramic sink.
The craic of crack on the cracked tarnished mirrors 
taken by the cracked.

Beneath strip lighting, without filters and photo-tweaking,
cosmetics melting, fillers and botox dissolving,
lives stripped bare,
the glaring ugly people.

He’d come too far,
even though he could see their inner reflections
against the hand mirror they held out.
He delved in, divulging his true face,
as everything became shadows around him.

"Broken into the Past" (Entry 508)

The casket broke.
Unknown space behind 
oak panel slid open.

Documents and treasures spilled to floor,
running secrets of hot lava, 
sorching plans.

The past finally breathe
the air while those 
around gasped.

All but one.
Quicker than age with belie,
bent to grasp.

Dull brooch with diamond chips,
and a story not, this day, 
to be broached.

Thursday, 19 December 2013

"A Fella's Character" (Entry 506)

Poor, poor fella.
Smart but dumb.
What a life!
What a bum!
Try looking deeper
until you find,
the real hero,
hidden behind.

"Celebration Time" (Entry 504)

Celebration a life that’s lived.
Celebrate, enjoy, all it gives.
Be thankful for what you’ve got.
Look! Notice! It’s more than you know,
it’s quite a lot.
Give a smile, a grin and laughter.
This is your time, now and the ever after.

"Bring and Show" (Entry 502)

Bring the crazy
Bring the pain
Bring the laughter 
Bring the rain
Bring the hope
Bring the woes
Show the new
Show the lows
Show the next
Show the real
Show the comfort
Show what you feel

"Half a Mile" (Entry 500)

Reach the turning.
Stop, gather ravaged thought.
Car horn blared.
Lights ferocious flash.
Forced to pull the turn.

No more time to consider.
No more time to cry.
Front wheels hit gravel road,
crunching, spitting out stones.
Half a mile on grinding track.

Half a mile until…

"Disco Beat Death" (Entry 496)

1 - 2 - 3 - 4
The disco beat bounced through his head.
BeeGees with sledge hammers.
That infernal tune on internal loop.

That bloody adverts fault,
meant to save lives.
First aid,
CPR,
chest compressions to the rhythm of ‘Stayin’ Alive.’

Ironic,
now the victim was Forever Dead.

He’d been there, willing them along,
counting his breaths, 
trusting they would keep the patient going,
as they attempted to stop the blood from literally 

Going down the drain.

He didn’t see the car hit,
but from what he was looking at now,
it must have been a head-on.
Over the bonnet and thrown into the gutter,

Like the rest of the unwanted discarded detritus.

He stared at the body,it looked empty.
A shell, some call it,
like you could hold it to your ear and
still listen to its past life, like

The distant roar of the ocean.

No, that mass of meat was nothing but compost, or ash, now.
He should know,
it was his body he viewed through
non-existant non-corporeal eyes.

He knew he should be reviewing his life,
or regretting what he should or shouldn’t have down.
Trouble was, he couldn’t stop thinking about that fucking tune,
“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Stayin’ Alive!”

He prayed it wouldn’t last into eternity.

"The Mass of Mound" (Entry 493)

Woman slept as belly writhed. 
Attempt unconscious to manoeuvre bulk.
A grunt of discomfort before giving up.
Still mass beneath rolled and quivered.

Movement never-ending.
Surprise now, and from the beginning.
Unplanned, from one night stand.
Not unusual ‘round here.

Celebrations, congratulations.
A visit to the social.
Though no one noticed her late of medical checks,
or that bump grew at alarming rate.

Did anyone else crave sunflower oil?
Gallons and gallons, she drank.
Plastic bottles, and metal cans,
lay empty and glistening beside her bed.

No one seemed to think this strange,
or think about it at all.
A block in their vision, their processes.
She whimpered, greasy mouth wiped.

Lay a hand on undulating mound.
Movements intensified. Pushing up, fighting. 
She screamed once, as the unknown ‘un-baby’
began to eat its way out.

Thursday, 31 October 2013

"tides" (Entry 477)

tides rise and fall
but never turn -
just like you
will never learn

"Rhyme of Old Thyme" (Entry 473)

I rued the hour
You came to power
When I heard upon the tower
High above the town of Dover,
Where I used to run in clover, 
I knew that my life was over.

Tuesday, 15 October 2013

"Life Garden" (Entry 467)

The garden bloomed 
just as it should. 
The cycle of life, 
as I knew it would. 

"A Ripped Memory" (Entry 464)

A hazy day amongst the grey
Reminds me of that rip
Half a life ago
When you were taken away. 

Saturday, 5 October 2013

"Silent Snores" (Entry 459)

Oh? I dream of silence. 
Past your noise. 
Of grunting and groaning
And snores and more. 
But when your pillows cold
And your rest in another place. 
I dream of your breath, your snuffles, your face. 

"Bring Back" (Entry 455)

Bring back the love
And sunshine dreams. 
Bring back new hope
And inspiration gleams.
Bring back laughter
And idea lightning beams. 
Give me life now
And all that it seems.

*********

Wow! Poem 455! 
That means only 100 to go!
Thank you so much for reading all my verses. 
Do you have a favourite? Please let me know in the comments. If you do post a message, I'll tweet your name on my twitter feed (please give me your twitter address, if you want to.)
Only 100 to go. I hope you'll stay with me.  Thank you again!