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Bathroom

so tired tonight
day five of renovations
and aching limbs
skin tight
eyes closing
mind dozing
heavy head
really need a shower
must go to bed
perhaps another forty hours or so
the bathroom will be done.

15/02/2020

Updated – see full saga in the poem section – and keep checking back – this may run for some time!

Valentine Poems

I’m starting a small collection of  verses for Valentine’s Day.

I think a lot of traditional celebratory days have become a bit of a commercial cash cow. And I’ve never really bought in to Valentine’s day. Like Mother’s Day, I think if someone is going to show they care, then they need to show it through the year not just one day in 365. Or, in the year in point, 366.

Anyway, it’s totally incidental that in trying to write some slushy romantic stuff I seem to have ended up with some rather satirical views of relationships. One example has already been added. It’s actually a series of Haiku. Each one was an extra attempt to be romantic in just 17 syllables. But it turned into the END of a relationship instead. It’s called Haiku Break Up and it’s in this section just before this entry.

The next started off just fine, with the common “Roses are…” beginning. It somehow became “Roses are thorny”, turned into a rather cynical poem voiced by a financially strapped guy who just wanted a quick cheap way to get his girl into bed. Story of my life! It’s called Cheapo Valentino

Also included is the actual sloppy Sonnet “Valentine” I wrote for my hubby after we’d been married about ten years! So I must have had a soft romantic side once upon a time. It’s included in my book, Candle, as well as in my poem section here.

Finally in this Valentine section, is “Show me some Affection” which has been added as a graphic, to give the poem a “romantic” shape. I’m pleased with how it looked before I changed the format, but then I had to blow it up, then it went fuzzy! I’ve got it as big as I can without it turning completely to fuzz. I’d also like to add that it is about no-one I know. But if I meet him I won’t have to hang about, and it will be good to have this one in hand 🙂

 

Nonsense to Ponder

So having got Dead Poets post off my chest, so to speak, (for now) let me take you on a little wander into strange waters. It’s just for fun but if it makes you stop and ponder the meaning thats fine. Make of it what you will. Is it nonsense?

It was just a dream, she said
But the slumber never ended
She drifted with her tear stained face
Looked for the hand
And took her place
Upon the sand
And waited for the waves
In gentle shallow

It was just a dream, she said
But when she woke the edges blurred
And something broke
And the only word
She found
Was on the pillow
A tear stained verse
Left by the hand
She held that night
And the dream she had to follow

15/01/2020

I’ll let you into  a secret. The second stanza was written first. I just changed them round and thought it was better.

Dead Poets

Sometimes you may read a poem that makes you smile, laugh or cry. Some poems will perhaps make you ponder at the wonderful way our language can bring abstract ideas to life, or give depth to social issues.

Sometimes you will just enjoy the flow, rhythm, rhyme of the whole thing as you let it wash over you.

There’s plenty of poetry out there to discover. I am not a great reader of dead poets. I am quite ignorant of many of them. I should read more. But I want to read poetry that moves me – for any of the reasons above – smile laugh cry etc.

If I have to read it several times and still can’t see the rhythm (I can manage without the rhyme) or the message it conveys, then I am quick to dismiss it. If I have to get to know the life story of the poet to understand his poems, then the poet should have said so beforehand. That may sound shallow. Maybe it’s just because I have had a difficult time recently understanding the verse of an acclaimed poet, and I think he’s erm.. not that great. There are too many people spending far too long analysing the poetry of dead poets. And it’s too late.

I hope you find my poems fit at least one of many criteria that you can connect with and enjoy. If not, it could be that I have travelled down that path of telling my life story in such a cryptic fashion that it makes no sense to you. And of course, poets are all extremely egocentric so it’s an easy trap to fall into. But just for the record, I write poetry because I enjoy the sound of the words, not to baffle readers after I am dead. (My ego obviously thinks I will be famous. I have moderate doubt). Here’s a new poem.

Posthumous Glee

Try this little nonsense rhyme
It might mean something to you, sometime
Decipher phrases, words on screen
And you decide what it may mean.

When posthumously I am famed
This poem will become acclaimed
As one of worth for generations
To be read in schools ’cross twenty nations

If it was some treasured tome
How hurt I’d be, if you then seek
To change it’s meaning as you roam
Through words you think I meant to speak

Then I would shift, my ashes spent
And rise again in sore lament
That you can violate my worth
But think you’ve given second birth!

There never was a secret code
Alas! there was no treasure
What you see is what you get
It’s just an ode for selfish pleasure

To see you squirm for hour
on hour as professors tell you their
opinion of what I meant, but didn’t say
And how my life reflects what isn’t there

Poetic justice has it’s place
And I achieve the perfect crime
To see the flushing of your face
For just a nonsense rhyme

Amanda Samm 2020