I was right. This is different, and it’s going to need some work…
#Instaverse: Sunrise
Ruby Tuesday
Hang on, how did it get to be Thursday again so fast? There’s been a lot on this week, it must be said, and I have a ton of important stuff to knock off at the weekend. Most importantly, VIDEO IS BACK and we’ll start knocking off some more poems for the Virtual Chapbook next week. Add to all of this that I’m recording poetry for Time to Talk Day, which is not that far away now… but this post is not about the future, but THE PRESENT.
I’ve made a daily return to Ko-Fi this week, with some measure of success.
This stuff used to happen on Instagram, but as was discussed on Tuesday, we don’t do Facebook-sponsored content here any more. Instead, Ko-Fi’s a lovely sweet place where I get to call all the shots, and it’s nothing at all to do with anything except content on my terms. Therefore, we’ll Haiku there for a couple of weeks and maybe introduce something else as time goes on. I know various other people use this for short stories, so it becomes a pseudo-subscription model…
Also, there is currently quite a lot of mucking about with Spotify. Anyone who has been paying proper attention in the last couple of years should have more than a proper grasp of the significance of music in my life. Let’s be honest, it underpins just about everything I am. The playlist above for the 2020 NaNoWriMo got a facelift today (because we have a new book cover) and, rather amazingly, the 2021 Novel’s already got a soundtrack being added to…
Things are looking pretty productive, and long may it continue.
Poetry Archive :: Outside
Here’s the second of two specially-written pieces for #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek: as discussed last Monday, body image is a big deal for me and is something I’ve struggled with for decades. Now, however, it is not nearly as problematic as was once this case.
I suppose, as a result, you could also consider this piece as autobiographical.
Outside
Presentation, count
ways to look better: measure
perception, result.
Camera’s a lie,
pointless deception: smoothing
flaws into focus.
Step away, redress
internal balance; preserve
personal conscience.
What’s possessed within
far more vital: true beauty
growing from within.
Outside, realised
transformation: evolving,
solid impression.
Poetry Archive :: Teal
Just as a reminder: daily poetry, with a weekly archive will be going away in May to make way for my Project of Awesome.
I’ll see you again in June.
Teal
Medium blue-green,
an emerging paradigm:
orange and teal look.
Basic web colour
Windows default wallpaper;
cancer awareness.
This neutral colour,
of a duck’s head: which came first
that egg, or the bird?
Crayon confuses,
where should you place: many hues
shading overlap.
Real deal, sealing feel
ideally; perfect aspect
this hue of rare dreams.
Poetry Archive :: Avocado
Really no idea what happened here. You can tell it has been a long week.
Avocado
A fruit from this tree,
persea americana;
mass phenomena.
Ancient nutrition
long before that toasted snack;
climacteric fruit.
Healthy yet fatty,
contradictory; texture
smooth taste sensation.
Millennial angst,
green-fleshed monster: symbolic
arbiter of wealth.
Avocado, shade
bathrooms, guacamole; build
California rolls.
Poetry Archive :: Moss
No regrets about the crap pun in verse #5 ❤
Moss
Small, flowerless plant
seedless, simple leaves: clumped stems
surprisingly dense.
Dispersed on swift winds,
beautifully fragile spores;
yet hardy, stubborn.
Cracks between old stones,
surviving dessication:
liquid renewal.
Comfortable bed,
thermal insulation, or
growing medium.
Moss’ sterling work
untold uses: shady greens,
non-vascular stars.
Poetry Archive :: Laurel
We’re having fun over the next four weeks by doing quite literal interpretations of our subject matters. In this case, it was incredibly easy to throw together five verses on the literal essence of laurel, both historically and medicinally. This worked far better than I’d initially expected it to, so much so it’ll be fun to do the same with three other shades of green, or green-related words going forward.
Amazing sometimes how an idea spins you out to a completely different direction than first anticipated.
Laurel
Aromatic tree,
evergreen shrub: mountain nymph,
priestess of Gaia.
Victory’s symbol,
poet laureate: favoured
by the Gods themselves.
Immortality,
emperor’s regalia:
Roman reverence.
Vital astringent
wound’s salve: that Bloody Mary’s
green ingredient.
Humble, verdant growth
vitally symbolic; plant
new futures within.
Poetry Archive :: Nobody but You [Redux]
Love is still horrible, unsurprisingly.
The original version of this poem can be found here.
Nobody But You
Now, departed: mind
desolate: understanding,
our love is over.
All passion desires
out of reach: estranged moments,
cold, empty feelings.
Every day, torture
realisation; final
line drawn, completed.
Point of no return,
old path blocked: accept failure
future, crumbling.
Nobody but you
at this instant: matters more,
loss too much to bear.
Poetry Archive :: The Slightest Touch (Redux)
The original for this one is here, and if I’m honest, you might be hard pressed to discern the difference. There’s not really a ton of change, and this one was a bit saucy before we started. However, if pressed, this feels like an improvement.
Next week is the last of the old stuff. NEW THINGS BEGIN AGAIN IN APRIL \o/
The Slightest Touch
Sensitised, moving
side to back; sense arrival,
waking arousal.
Coarse flesh, rough hands brush
back, touch hip: pulling closer
face blurs as lips touch.
Lost in joint passion;
blessed manipulation
bodies twist, combine.
Looking down to you,
hands grasp: shifting weight above,
organ pulse inside.
Your slightest touch lights
chain reaction: seed, life’s spark
little death our end.
Poetry Archive :: Regret
This is, in my opinion, as good as the original.
Regret
Holding belief close
to beating heart: how now to
begin this story?
Commencing belief,
honesty placed: strong passion
swallowed soul, grasped mind.
Our middle movement,
soaring, reflective: leading
onward, to coda.
Beginning, ending;
passion departed: transformed
bitter memory.
Regret devolves, love’s
beautiful broken sliver;
life’s once perfect whole.
The Internet of Words 
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