9 posts tagged with "GloPoWriMo"

The ceaseless body carries on
when perhaps you should stop
and plot a route. A path.
A freeing twist.

Hoochie grumpy bumblebee!
Mum and Daddy said to me:
Go to university
and study something science-y.

Hoochie happy old plum tree!
When I'm older I will be
in audit, consultancy,
an accountant, wait and see!

Hoochie silly split green pea!
I'll be rolling in money!
In my lunch break, matcha tea,
then everyone will respect me.

Hoochie dour notary!
One day I'll have property,
a mortgage. By seventy,
maybe I will be debt free.

Hoochie lonely divorcee!
My kids will not speak to me
and I'll see out my final years
in regret.

If I were you, I just wouldn’t take it.

If I were you, mate,
I’d tell that jumped up boss of yours
where to stick it.

Mate, if I were you,
I’d dance among the clouds
and liberate myself of earthly bonds.
Easy.

Honestly, mate,
I’d walk in that office and tell ‘em
they’re all full of shit,
then metamorphose into something winged,
a flapping fritillary,
and be done with ‘em.

That’s what I’d do,
if I were you.

Lonely Robin plays pizzicato,
punctuating hushed half-light,
dream breaker.

Her tears rest heavy on her earthen cheek,
suffused in dark bereavement, pools of grief,
for Life fled weary from our future, bleak
in futile lessons learned upon the leaf:
For forty days of petrichor, deserved,
my sodden friends bent, grey in ritual;

empty Monday mornings.
it's all radiator clicks.
shout to my echo
as I sort through returns.
ordering is just a guide;
today I sneak Le Guin
into the non-fiction section.

The boy waits, late as ever.
Hears distant chorus, warm,
unknowable behind frosted glass.
Shapes sway through the door, a suggestion.

When the last rain falls
and weary plains crack under
the sun we forsook,
we'll laugh in our perfect grief,
entwined and wilting as one.