Stats - Day 30

poems written = 75

poems written per day = 2.5

poems remaining = 0

required poems per day = 0

75PoWriMo - LXXV

anticlimactic finale


    i've never felt less inspired  to write a poem
      i've never felt less desire  to write a poem
     i've never felt less on fire  to write a poem
but i've never been more required  to write a poem
   not even that time i was hired  to write a poem
            and even if i aspired  to write a poem
        i really am far too tired  to write a poem

75PoWriMo - LXXIV

sometimes i wish you weren't so hard to let go of


         there's still a part of my arms
                that continues to feel wrapped around you
      there's still a part of my nose
            where the smell of your hair lingers
   there's still a part of my chest
         warmed by the mist of your breath
there's still a part of my heart
      that will never leave your side

Stats - Day 29

poems written = 73

poems written per day = 2.5172

poems remaining = 2

required poems per day = 2

75PoWriMo - LXXIII

especially if they try to help


even worse than cleaning
up disgusting
things they did
the folding
of tiny washing
is the worst thing
about having a kid

75PoWriMo - LXXII

the girl


i have this little sister
            she is small and very funny

she was my childhood accomplice
   and scapegoat
      and stooge
         and companion
            and opponent
               and ally
                  and victim
                     and confidante
                        and assistant
                           and substitute
                              and buffer-zone
                                 and co-conspiritor
sometimes i think it must have been hard for her
you know, what with her being
the talented one
   and the popular one
      and the outgoing one
         and the sensible one
            and the mature one
               and the smart one
                  and the attractive one
                     and the useful one
                        and the friendly one
                           and the versatile one
                              and the driven one
                                 and the together one
                                    and the good one
                                       and the likeable one
and the one who makes the kind of choices
      that aren't constantly being called into question
my life wouldn't have been the same
      without her in it
            and probably worse
                  probably

                   

75PoWriMo - LXXI

you think it's funny? well you're drowning in it too



everybody hurry
down to the shore
there's a whole ocean of slurry
with breakers of gore
before the fetid swell
so we'll dive right in
you'll get used to the smell
as we're going for a swim
and you'll get used to the burning
sensation on your skin
the corrosive murk is churning
as it dissolves you in
and soon you will become it
as you melt like gruyere cheese
and once everyone has done it
we'll form the stinking seas

Stats - Day 28

poems written = 70

poems written per day = 2.5

poems remaining = 5

required poems per day = 2.5

75PoWriMo - LXX

head:gear


that
is a beautiful hat
i mean, sure
it makes your head look much more
mushroom-like than it did before
and somehow makes your
face
look strangely out of place
but that
really is a nice hat

75PoWriMo - LXIX

on etienne cabet's equation


both
have failed
when imposed
upon people
from above
and could
only ever
work
when grown
from within

75PoWriMo - LXVIII

lacking


rationing
my passion
maybe if i could sleep
long and deep
i wouldn't be too tired
to be fired
up

Stats - Day 27

poems written = 67

poems written per day = 2.4815

poems remaining = 8

required poems per day = 2.6667

Stats - Day 26

poems written = 67

poems written per day = 2.5769

poems remaining = 8

required poems per day = 2

75PoWriMo - LXVII

take


as i take
a step back into real life
i will take
care not to forget that
things i take
for granted in this bubble
i must take
with me into the world
no mistake

75PoWriMo - LXVI

i am well aware i looked like a twonk


i don't think
i'm ever going
to admit
to most people
i even did that
let alone
how much i enjoyed it
i doubt
i'll even admit it
to myself

75PoWriMo - LXV

running into old friends


how do you precis
your life to someone you may see
once or twice a year
but whom you know genuinely cares?
do you speak of grand sweeps
the many blessings that keep
descending
or of any of the unending
parade of tedious minutiae
the things that stress and test and try?
i feel 1 thousand things a day
so how should i know what to say
the millions i've tried to forget
since we last met

Stats - Day 25

poems written = 64

poems written per day = 2.56

poems remaining = 11

required poems per day = 2.2

75PoWriMo - LXIV

displacement displacement



i sat down
to write a poem
to distract me
from all the things
i didn't want
to have to do
but the draws
of assorted
glowing screens
ate my mind
ate my time
all
i scrawled
was this

75PoWriMo - LXIII

words fail me



i'm starting to hate
poetry by sixty-three;
words are failing me

75PoWriMo - LXII

miss


every day when i log on
to twitter the first thing i do
is open lists and click upon
the link that takes me straight to you
in futile hope that you've returned
as if you'd never been away
to the social medium you spurned
eighteen months ago today
i know you had your reasons
and i know they're pretty sound
and i know that my worries and
wishes you were still around
are just selfish expressions
of a self-involved regret
and i know i know you less than
anyone you ever met
and it shouldn't be an issue
and i should get over it
but the fact remains i miss you
cos you were my favourite twit

Stats - Day 24

poems written = 61

poems written per day = 2.5417

poems remaining = 17

required poems per day = 2.3333

75PoWriMo - LXI

three "must get here"s


i)

predicting
our
reunion
thus
holding
off
sleep

ii)
alone
this
home's
oddly
silent

iii)

attended
radius
another
minute
inches
slowly

75PoWriMo - LX

(appropriated) bedroom windows



   and  it starts like this
     i  look through the glass
  know  every detail of the facade yet nothing
that's  behind what light bounces from
  life  passes by in a blur
   but  this view is immobile
    it  is my permanent backdrop
 still  and stoic as the vortex
 sucks  the details into oblivion

75PoWriMo - LIX

a mundane but perfect moment



swarming
with the commuter shoal this morning
through the crowded concourse
i was on course
for an architecturally-haired young man wearing
a cheap ill-fitting suit who was staring
at the cleaners' cart
from which he was maybe eight men apart
at this point the soundtrack in my cans
began
the gentle drum roll intro to a tune
the timing could not have been more opportune
i watched as the young man raised up
his empty take-away cappuccino cup
and with laudable insouciance and a quick
half-disguised flick
of his wrist propelled the rubbish toward that bin
slowly trundling away from him
and as i watched as that tumbling cup fell
the music in my ears started to swell
and as i watched it glide
into its goal without touching the sides
the song kicked in its first sforzando chord
i had to fight my hands not to applaud
the young man's stony face allowed a tiny grin
of triumph in celebration of this win



literally as soon as this happened i thought that i finally had a way to use this title supplied to me by the lovely @likecrazypaving

Stats - Day 23

poems written = 58

poems written per day = 2.5217

poems remaining = 17

required poems per day = 2.4286

75PoWriMo - LVIII

the most underrated delicacy



when you stumble home feeling snowman-ish
with two ingredients (and maybe some garnish)
you can make a meal which will banish
all traces of hanger from your belly
and clear fear from your mind as well (e-
ven if you cant afford to shop at the organic deli)
opening up your refrigerator
you will find a bowl or plate or
tupperware of food you left for later
last night or perhaps the night before
when you discovered you had prepared more
food than could be crammed into your maw
be grateful to yourself of yesterday
as his propensity for overca-
tering has given you "ingredient a"
depending on the nature of your saved
comestibles it may take too much brave-
ery to eat cold so a microwave
or saucepan may be used to warm it through
the method selected is up to you
(who am i to tell you what to do?)
the second step is also none-too-hard
it simply requires you to maillard
some bread (stopping before it's charred)
once happy with the browning of your bread
all that's really left to do is spread
ingredient a all across its head
it's nothing of which you will want to boast
but the delicious dish i make the most
brings simple joys - leftovers on toast

75PoWriMo - LVII

my city is an archipelago



this city is a continent
but my city is an archipelago
collected familiar islands
a family of isolated recollections
places i have grown to know
to love, to fear, to long to revisit
federated states of mind
suspended in a soup
spread among a sea
the undulating waves and shipping lanes
of places across which i travel
cross over, pass by, fly through
and i love those geological events
those volcanic moments
when new land masses emerge
rising from the depths of the darkness
new islands or just new spurs
peninsulas slowly encroaching the shores
of the formerly unknown

75PoWriMo - LVI

perspective



sometimes i
feel like i'm
watching myself

through the wrong
end of a
pair of binoculars

tiny and
distant and
slightly out of focus

knowing that
at any
moment i could

bump into
things which seem
so far away

75PoWriMo - LV

my brain was trying to sing this like dylan


just a twisted, tiny-hearted man
who never understood the way to feel
he don't when love-atrophy began
and can't even be sure if he is real
which is partly because he's just a composite
and partly because he's partly parts of me
but he's concluded mostly it's because it
isn't easy to define reality
the voice inside narrating
his life had started stating
that by now his heart was in need of reinflating

his heart had very slowly crusted hard
like play dough that's been left out in the sun
he needed a crash cart and cpr
but most of all he just needed someone
to take that clay and gently start remoulding
to find the kind of form he isn't suite
to polish off the dirt and find the golden
kernel and the glowing pilot light
the voice inside narrating
his life had started stating
there were just too many pluses he's negating

Stats - Day 22

poems written = 54

poems written per day = 2.4545

poems remaining = 21

required poems per day = 2.625

75PoWriMo - LIV

well i never did



i've never played a cello
i've never read hello
i've never under-analysed the works of aa milne
i've never won a race
i've never been to space
chances are i've never seen your favourite film
i've never won a toga
i've never tried to yoga
i've never saved much money through attempts at haggling
i've never prayed to zeus
i've never finished proust
in fact i've never even eaten a madeleine
i've never been to lords
i've never been adored
i've never impressed people when i've met them
i've never kept control
i've never reached my goals
though that's because i've never really set them

75PoWriMo - LIII

don't end up like a superdisk



unopened unused
unneeded unappreciated
you met your obsolescence
in mint condition
lost at the back of a cupboard

75PoWriMo - LII

notification



i remember
          knowing your family
     before you existed
i remember
     you as a tiny child
          wailing for an entire holiday
i remember
          the summer of 95
     you were there, small
               but peripheral
                    (i was at a self-involved age)

and now i am informed
     you are a fully adult person
          following me on the twitter?

     this morning
i feel so very old

Stats - Day 21

poems written = 51

poems written per day = 2.4286

poems remaining = 24

required poems per day = 2.6667

75PoWriMo - LI

defenestration (reprise)



i knew the correct
answer to a question on only connect
as soon as the second clue appeared
but only because i wrote a poem about it this time last year




http://bit.ly/9lzzL4

75PoWriMo - L

she knew he loved her because...



     eight hundred broken ghetto blasters were
playing their song
          on worn, old c90s

     each morning's breakfast a new
message of love was etched
          into the black side of her toast

     every florist in a 12 mile radius emptied
her bed strewn with petals
          filled the volume of her bedroom

     2,768,356th in line to the throne
made her feel like a princess
          by arranging convenient accidents to all the others

Stats - Day 20

poems written = 49

poems written per day = 2.45

poems remaining = 26

required poems per day = 2.6

75PoWriMo - XLIX

reflected glory



vicarious success
is even better than
personal success
due to the added bonus
of knowing someone deserves it

75PoWriMo - XLVIII

occasionally i feel worthwhile



you did this
didn't you
i could tell
normally
it's not as
good as this

75PoWriMo - XLVII

a prayer



father
give me the patience
not to need to
help where i am not needed
and father
give them the ability
not to need to
have put my last prayer to the test

Stats - Day 19

poems written = 46

poems written per day = 2.4211

poems remaining = 29

required poems per day = 2.6364

75PoWriMo - XLVI

she was the mist



you descend form the cooling air
condensing into being
lending a flattering soft focus
reminding me that the background
is unimportant scenery
turning every journey
into a series of surprises
making every turn an adventure
hugging me damp
being all i see

75PoWriMo - XLV

steeling



before a full and busy day
to find five minutes' peace to pray
for strength to face each new morass
perform a mental mise-en-place
itemise foreseen concerns
and prepare for each in tern
is never quite enough to get me through it
but i'd fare much worse if i didn't do it

Stats - Day 18

poems written = 44

poems written per day = 2.4444

poems remaining = 31

required poems per day = 2.5833

75PoWriMo - XLIV

irrational hatred (part three)



gingham and paisley and especially houndstooth
believers that dawson's creek's dialogue's profound truth
the way i'm allowing myself to stagnate
these are a few of my irrational hates

not being warned about triggers or spoilers
overproduction that makes music joyless
the volume of food diners leave on their plates
these are a few of my irrational hates

assumed social skills i have still yet to master
playing a fender, especially a stratocaster
mediocre or worse things that everyone rates
these are a few of my irrational hates

Stats - Day 17

poems written = 43

poems written per day = 2.5294

poems remaining = 32

required poems per day = 2.4615

75PoWriMo - XLIII

peardrops



pungent, sweet
and esoteric
distinctive
aroma of stoops,
park benches
and the top deck of
75
buses late on spring
afternoons



for @RachSmith82 who enjoys in-jokes

Stats - Day 16

poems written = 41

poems written per day = 2.5625

poems remaining = 34

required poems per day = 2.4286

not only have i stumbled past the half-written mark, i have somehow managed to end up ever-so-slightly ahead of schedule

75PoWriMo - XLI

meta-quickie



a quick one
can be satisfactory
but always suspect
you've been a disappointment
(more than usual)

75PoWriMo - XL

i might be slightly high on the fumes of cleaning products



when
even for a moment
you're convinced
that you see your own breath
pouring forth in dayglo streams
like the tiny rainbows on pavement oilslicks
dancing round the kitchen as it diffuses
it may be time
for some fresh air

75PoWriMo - XXXIX

my four step plan



i used to have a plan
a four step plan
i wrote it down
on every surface
i could find
inscribed on almost
everything i owned
set out thusly:
     i)   form a band
     ii)  learn a chord
     iii) write a song
     iv)  change the world
i even wrote a song
to which these steps
repeated mantra-like
formed the chorus
i believed in the plan
the plan was clear
and clearly right
it set out my path
defined my direction
and was my justification
for every one of my
questionable choices

steps one to three
are deceptive
appearing as they do
to be so straightforward
but i was never able
to perform them
to the prerequisite standard
to make the fourth possible

75PoWriMo - XXXVIII

you might be staring into her eyes and clutching her hands but you don't seem to have noticed that she's clearly not that into you



clear-glazed raybans
unusual piercings
immaculate scruffy-blond-hitler hair
pinstriped blazer
tatty knitwear
deep-blue implausibly skinny jeans
you probably imagine yourself
to be a delightful contradiction
but nobody loves a hipster

Stats - Day 15

poems written = 37

poems written per day = 2.4667

poems remaining = 38

required poems per day = 2.5333

75PoWriMo - XXXVII

displacement activity



i made a cat's cradle from an elastic band
but too short, stretched too taut it dug into my hands
more than string so my fingers began to turn blue
til it sprang from my hands and fell onto my shoe

75PoWriMo - XXXVI

squirrel


in some ways
isn't each of us like a squirrel
we hide things without really knowing why
we are essentially vermin only sightly cuter
we are always grateful when a stranger feeds us crisps
we can be surprisingly vicious
very few of us aren't grey



many thanks for the title suggestion go out to the lovely @likecrazypaving

75PoWriMo - XXXV

irrational hatred (part two)




trying to chop things without a big steel knife
awkwardly talking about twitter in real life
the population of the united states
these are a few of my irrational hates


the phrase "really, really" and the misuse of "literally"
the fact that i cant tell a moth from a fritillary
the way my mind dwells on my smallest mistakes
these are a few of my irrational hates

adults who don't know what the singular of dice is
the wilful disobedience of touchscreen devices
everyone's queuing but nobody waits
these are a few of my irrational hates

75PoWriMo - XXXIV

yes you



stop staring at my notebook
over my shoulder
even if you could read my scrawl
you can't read my mind
i'm not writing about you
well, clearly i am now
but i wasn't before you started
see, now you've looked away
so all you've done is reveal
yourself to be guilty
but don't think i haven't seen
the way you keep glancing back
kudos for your attempts at subtlety
but you're not fooling anyone
let's make this clear
one final time
stop staring at my notebook
over my shoulder

75PoWriMo - XXXIII

i don't do mornings



fighting back sleeop
although my eyelids beg for slumber
counting down reversing sheep
but soon reach negative numbers
my reason and my instincts torn
but i can't lie here any more
and my thirty-seventh yawn
propels me, stumbling, out the door

Stats - Day 14

poems written = 32

poems written per day = 2.2857

poems remaining = 43

required poems per day = 2.6875

75PoWriMo - XXXII

i am the future of my past




cooking celeriac fondant
and cabbage with chorizo
if you waved a magic wand and
let my childhood self know
what was in my saute pans
he would just have viewed
me as some weird old man
cooking yucky food

75PoWriMo - XXXI

we are more than all the things we are



we are all recycled fromn leftovers
we are each a by-product of a by-product
we are only an intermediate stage
we are not a raw material
we are not a finished product
we are transitory
we are physically momentary
yet we are loved

75PoWriMo - XXX

irrational hatred


the feeling of fleece and the texture of wicker
the greasy perfume of kentucky fried chicken
chicken wire affixed to wrought iron gates
these are a few of my irrational hates

people who clap on the first and the third beat
warm summer sun with its frankly absurd heat
strangers in shops who pretend that we're mates
these are a few of my irrational hates

high heels with jeans (although boots are exceptions)
checking your hair in each passing reflection
strictly come waltzing to songs in 6/8
these are a few of my irrational hates

75PoWriMo - XXIX

not quite the ghost i wish you were



i only glimpsed your face
for the briefest moment
as you bent to tie you lace
an as i - with places to go - went
rushing past the gloomy
busstop where you half hid
a shudder rattled through me
for although you weren't the kid
you were half our lives ago
and my your face had aged
i didn't doubt who you were though
but the way i felt had changed
you meant almost nothing to me
while we shared that daily hell
but now i feeling gloomy
that you reminded me how it felt
i was glad that i forgot you
when repressing that other time
and, remember me or not, you
will soon refade from my mind

Stats - Day 13

poems written = 28

poems written per day = 2.1538



poems remaining = 47

required poems per day = 2.7647

75PoWriMo - XXVIII

after



the weight of your breath
your pulse ringing in my ears
closing down the day

75PoWriMo - XXVII

singing you to sleep with nonsense



you're only grumpy cos you're tired
that's the way your circuit board was wired
and though the solder's not great it's not shorting
there really must be some method of sorting
out the difference between our views
i'm convinced that you should sleep whilst you
seem just as fixed on this new policy
of screaming til you make my eardrums bleed
and even when that crimson tide comes seeping
out of my ears you'll probably not be sleeping
and as it starts to trickle down my cheek
you'll only see it as a sign i'm weak
and probably imagine you have won
but let's be clear we've only just begun
and you will find i'm rather good at waiting
and every time i see your lungs inflating
i know you're slowly using up your powers
and i can keep this standoff up for hours
until the hawk of darkness comes a-swooping
and tugs your eyelids until they are drooping
see, even now your volume starts to fade out
and you're far less awake that you have made out
the strings that hold your head up have been slackened
the sleep thread needle's already going back and
forth stitching your brain into a tight seam
just give in - i'll see you after your dream

75PoWtriMo - XXVI

poesie



mon coeur est comme une puce
ma faiblesse est comme un perroquet
qui crierait les banalités
au sujet de mes nombreux échecs
un fois par seconde sans arrêt
et ne s'ennuie jamais
parce que
mes excuses ont le couer de fer

Stats - Day 12

poems written = 25

poems written per day = 2.0833



poems remaining = 50

required poems per day = 2.7778

75PoWriMo - XXV

on seeing soweto kinch




for all the technical equipment
the loops and the laptop and the ipad
the delay and the videos clips sent
the moments i felt i had
the most powerful connections
with the message of the music
were the sections
when he didn't use it

just three guys on a stage
symbiotically engaged
catching grooves and letting fly
licks and time went speeding by
simply drums and bass and sax
and the way they interact
saxophone and bass and drums
a toal greater than the sum
drums and horn and double bass
not a quaver out of place
and once they'd really hit their stride
just hold on and enjoy the ride

75PoWriMo - XXIV

soon


i keep telling myself
she'll be home soon
to prevent my doubting brain
conjuring the scenarios
spinning the tales
pointing out the possibilities
running me through all the ways
she might not
what would i do then?
what would i do then?
i would ...
well, i would ...
ummm


she'll be home soon

75PoWriMo - XXIII

solo



the worst guitar
solos occur
when the words run
out of ideas
and someone needs
to fill up some
time

the best guitar
solos occur
when the ideas
run out of words
and someone needs
to empty their
soul

Stats - Day 11

poems written = 22

poems written per day = 2



poems remaining = 53

required poems per day = 2.7895

75PoWriMo - XXII

blot


small-child crafted
domestic rorschach test
a blob of blue tack
a splash of spilled yoghurt
a stain of mysterious provenance
i believe i see
resignation

75PoWriMo - XXI

truth will out


decorate your face with tears
for beauty shines when truth appears
punctuate your speech with sighs
to give respite from all the lies
you hang your head each time you nod
repeatedly betray your fraud
although you're clearly smiling hard
it causes cracks in your facade

75PoWriMo - XX

please keep your domestic domestic



the air becomes somehow viscous
even amid the bustle the silence
between them is an imposing clamour
she develops a new fascination
with the ingredients
of her chocolate breakfast
and each time she can no longer resist
shooting him loaded, angry glances
she tries to disguise this reflex
by pretending to be fussing with her hair
he cycles through a choreographed pattern
staring blankly at the dust
shaking his hanging head
in an approximation of disbelief
pleading silently for attention
trying to calculate how long it takes
to be forgiven

75PoWriMo - XIX

a ight of fancy



there was a gerbil in a cage
who tired of running in a wheel
to burn off the impotent rage
imprisoned creatures always feel
with freedom in such short supply
determined he would learn to fly

but lacking opposable thumbs
and the required dexterity
to construct wings from chewing gum
and feathers (like mythology)
he realised that to increase his
odds he'd need telekinesis

trial one was to move some sawdust
a task that he achieved with ease
(though cynics argue it was more just
shifted sideways by a breeze
such killjoys are never impressed)
he moved on to a second test

concentrating all the steel
contained in his small rodent brain
he slowly raised that cursed wheel
and gently placed it down again
then raised it higher, swirled it round
and hurled it crashing to the ground

whilst clearly an impressive gift
and therapeutic to destroy
he couldn't work out how to lift
himself aloft whatever ploy
or scheme he'd dream up or propound
he couldn't get up off the ground

until he climbed the rusty bars
up to the ceiling of his prison
(which might to you not seem that far
but from his point of view he'd risen
higher than he'd been before)
he slowly opened up his paw

he gave a squeal, he held his breath
he braced for the impending pain
he strained each braincell he possessed
the dreaded impact never came
he simply hovered in midair
and wondered where to go from there

cautiously round his cage he flew
gained confidence as time went by
and once he'd done a lap or two
he started dreaming of the sky
though he lost some of zeal in
crashing hard into the ceiling

by practising it every day
the gerbil became quite adept
at flying but could find no way
to leave the cage where he was kept
no matter which way out he tried
he was enclosed on all six sides


you may well be wondering why
i told this tale, so i'll supply
the moral: never learn to fly
for even though i'm well aware
you may make a few people stare
it just won't get you anywhere

Stats - Day 10

poems written = 18

poems written per day = 1.8



poems remaining = 57

required poems per day = 2.85

75PoWriMo - XVIII

no


a man came up to me in the street
and asked if i had a light
i said no
a man came up to me in the street
and asked if i could spare any change
i said no
a man came up to me in the street
and asked if i knew the way
to foxly road
i said no
a man came up to me in the street
and asked if i was looking at his bird
i said no
a man came up to me in the street
and asked if i knew where i was going
i said
       physically, immediately:        yes
       spiritually, eternally:         yes
       in all other figurative senses: no

75PoWriMo - XVII

the fragile nature of reality



conditioned by the fiction
of the all-pervasive themes
that the media try to feed you
in repeated tropic scenes
there's a doubt that's breaking out
over how everything seems
i spend hours thinking how as
sure as i am i exist
i could peel away, revealing
something realer i had missed
it feels as though the set-up's over
and i'm waiting for the twist

Stats - Day 9

poems written = 16

poems written per day = 1.7778



poems remaining = 59

required poems per day = 2.8095