AprPAD Day 21-22, A Place in the Universe

A PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE  

From you I come, young
as mint green, and stitching time
into galaxies
.
.

Written for Poetic Asides Day 21, Senryu Poetic Form Challenge
and Miz Quickly’s Earth Day Prompt for Day 22 
Poetic Form: Senryu

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AprPAD Day 19-20, Provocateurs

PROVOCATEURS

We turn and churn each
shadow beyond an idea, ignite
bright flashes, smoulder
and burn tumble-down

dusty, dry-eyed weariness
to blistering sweet syrupy
dalliances, your dreary days
dashed and brought to tow.

We twist your world
and covet your words.
We are provocateurs..
.

Written for NapoWriMo, April PAD Challenge, Poetic Asides Day 19 and 20

Splashes of Long Tint

SPLASHES OF LONG TINT

It was all in her brush –
magic and dramatic broad strokes
that soaked colour across canvases,
and dripped long curtains of wonder.
Splashes of short tones for passion,
long tints for withering calm,
and every thought sought its own
light in expressions across
the sky with sun-railed rainbows.
.
.
.

Written for Poetic Asides Prompt Day 17: “Express”

A Few Thoughts On Childhood

A Few Thoughts On Childhood

SOFT AND SENSIBLE

The word impossible
should never fall upon
a child’s ear. Leave their
way clear of obstacles
but cushion your caution
with soft sensible words,
and any restrictions
with responsible care.
A parent shouldn’t close
the door to a child’s future
with the word impossible.

THE LOST ART OF PLAYING

It’s entirely possible
that children today
will never learn to play.
They stay indoors on sunny days
tapping on PCs,
texting friends on mobile
phones, home alone, doing
this and that, nothing
really, hanging at the mall,
indoors, inside, hiding from the sun,
no fresh air, no vitamin D,
no climbing trees, no skinned
knees, no swings, no slides, no bikes,
no skates, no racing wagons
down a hill – safe, safe,
boring, boring, boring. Kids
nowadays just don’t know
how to play.
.
.

Poetic Asides Prompt Day: 16
Two-for-Tuesday Poems: Impossible and Possible

Life’s Dusty Junctions

LIFE’S DUSTY JUNCTIONS

A long slow cry filled the air with thick grey soot, the train
still many miles away, soft bosomed terrain
carrying its call through hills and vales, a plain
clear note carried on the wind. Hear its long complaint

at another junction, another dusty lane
where journeys ramble through fields of yellow grain,
red dust and sky-high stalks of corn. Our ears strain
to the tune of the Burlington Northern. So strange

that our childlike hearts jump; we’re unrestrained
by the shrill of the engineer’s call, his sweet refrain
to our adventurous want to travel this strange
lineal sound through summer sun and winter rain.

We’ll follow a life, unconstrained, and we will reign,
a freer life beside the tracks – riding the trains.
.
.

Written for both Poetic Asides Day 14: Sonnet and Miz Quickly’s Prompts

How To Squash High Hopes

HOW TO SQUASH HIGH HOPES

Comparatively
speaking, I’ve felt worse,
like when I had pneumonia,
or that sinus infection
when you and I were
on holiday, or when I
had that toothache that
burnt a hole straight to middle earth.
Comparatively
speaking, I felt worse
then, but when your head is full
of cold and your nose
bubbles like an air pump
in a fish tank, and
your head bangs a rhythm
to In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida,
well that’s the time,
comparatively speaking,
when you probably
shouldn’t think you’re a randy rabbit.
.
.

Written for Poetic Asides: Day 13: “Compare”
http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2013-april-pad-challenge-day-13