At My Cafe Table – Free Writing: Transparency

Transparency

I can’t see through you.

Will the things I can see in you

see me through?

What’s on view

is hard to see through.

Is what I see of you

all that’s true of you?

Can you see through me?

If you can, do you like what you see?

How will I know

what you think you see of me

is really me?

There’s the me I want you to see.

There’s the me you want to see.

Then there’s the me that’s really me.

I want the true you to see the real me.

At least, I think I do.

It’s hard to be seen

fully,

transparently,

without mercy.

Please see me,

mercifully.

Facing the Far Side – Writing 201: Poetry, Day #6

Today’s Theme

Faces

Today’s Form

Found Poetry

Today’s Device

Chiasmus

(I’m afraid I didn’t manage a Chiasmus…but I was working with the picture and the print in front of me at the time)

Facing the Foreigners of the Far Side

Facing the Foreigners of the Far Side

The Poetry I Found Before Me

The Poetry I Found Before Me

Apologies for not working out how to rotate the photo. Here is the text typed for the convenience of your neck’s alignment:

There is initial cultural resistance

The things he’d done

Were good at heart,

Just rarely equipped to stop a runaway stage

A barbarian faux pas that quickly cost him his life.

What should I do about it?

How to be wise and sensitive,

Spend time connecting with the helpful and friendly local people

Entertaining themselves from the far side

Becoming confident

Challenging

Encouraging

The wellbeing of all

We have the same need,

That is going to be revealed:

The light bulb’s going on.

My Mind Mapped – Writing 201: Poetry, Day #5

Today’s Theme

Maps

Today’s Form

Ballad

Today’s Device

Metaphor

The Map of My Walks

The Map of My Walks

She walks all the streets of the Inner West:

A project, a plan, a self-imposed test.

Can her size 11 feet track from East to West,

Before those same feet cry out for a rest?

She walks up, she walks down

She walks all over that town

For the map’s her way back

From that shaded cul-de-sac.

In the morning, she sees families with time that is tight.

In the evening, it’s workers heading home for the night.

When the sun shines, retirees make the most of what’s bright,

Before settling in for the night by the TV’s light.

She walks up, she walks down

She walks all over that town

For the map’s her way back

From that shaded cul-de-sac.

She sees gardens with flowers and neat, stone chip paths.

She sees front yards of concrete – no fruit for the vase.

She sees cacti and succulents she’d rather were on Mars,

And she tries to remember to keep an eye out for cars.

She walks up, she walks down

She walks all over that town

For the map’s her way back

From that shaded cul-de-sac.

She imagines the lives lived in each house, each place.

She wonders if they’ve faced the things that she’s faced.

Her thoughts are kept in check as her body keeps its pace:

‘Your life is a walk, take your time, it’s not a race!’

She walks up, she walks down

She walks all over that town

For the map’s her way back

From that shaded cul-de-sac.

She colours each street, once it’s walked, with pink.

She walks the sweet streets and the streets that stink.

The map is a plan – it’s her life – there’s a link:

She’s walking, she’s changing the way that she thinks.

She walks up, she walks down

She walks all over that town

For the map’s her way back

From that shaded cul-de-sac.

Putting Skin in its Place – Writing 201: Poetry, Day #3

Today’s Theme

Skin

Today’s Form

Prose Poetry

Today’s Device

Internal Rhyme

When it comes to skin it’s all about the context, its place, be it face or foot. Some might have a fetish for the skin on another’s foot – but just a few, perhaps not you. Not me. I like to see the skin of your foot on the floor – its rightful placeĀ – not in my face.

Yet, when I look at my foot. I see my dry heel and the skin I could peel. I can’t help myself. I pick and I peel the rough edges from my heel. I throw them on the floor without a thought. Ought not that foot skin be in the bin? Yes, but my thoughts digress as I peel my heal.

Until you come to call and your eyes fall upon that skin, not in the bin, but on the floor. I am disgraced. The skin on my face turns red. My skin is shed.

I’ve no one to blame but myself for my shame. Skin is beautiful, in its rightful place.

A Life Unwrapped – Writing 201: Poetry, Day #2

Today’s Theme

Gift

Today’s Form

Acrostic

Today’s Device

Simile

Unusually, I’m more taken with the wrapping than the gift.

Not so much the shiny, sparkly sort of wrapping, but plain, brown paper, the

Wholemeal among the slices of paper from which one might choose.

Red ribbon, on brown (red salmon on rye?) will capture my eye.

Add a simple bauble, a feather or a frill. Red on Brown.

Please.

Place a little something within. One thing. Anything? Most things

Enthrall me, if they’re wrapped with a nod to my wholemeal life:

Dressed with ribbons of passionate red, if you please.

My Eye’s View Haiku – Writing 201: Poetry, Day #1

Today begins another two week poetry writing challenge from the good folks at WordPress. I’ll attempt to keep up.

Today’s Theme

Screen – writing about the screens in our life.

Today’s Form

Haiku (3 lines: 1st line 5 syllables; 2nd line 7 syllables, 3rd line 5 syllables)

Today’s Device

Alliteration

Screen! What have I seen

Since I set my sights on you?

Souls’ struggles, not silent.

Photography 101 – Day #10 – Mystery

Dark Paths

Dark Paths

A darker path walked with a companion known, yet unknown.

The journey ending in darkness not known until then.

She should have known.

If truth be known,

She did.

Brighter Future

Brighter Future

A walk with a friend who has known and knows.

Wisdom shared.

Walking the paths that faithful followers once walked.

The friends eat ice cream in cones

And stop to notice the light in the valley across the water.

She should keep her eyes fixed on that distant light.

Look closely and you’ll see

She does.

Time Out – With a Crossword (‘Crossword’ starts with ‘C’)

Coffee and Crossword both start with 'C'

Coffee and Crossword both start with ‘C’

Compose a poem in which every line starts with ‘C’?

Can I?

Consideration tells me that I can as, just yesterday, I walked

Crossword in my pocket, folded neatly with my map, and loyalty

Card for coffee purchase.

Coffee, that is, once the streets were walked:

Crisscrossed, then crossed off.

Challenge for the day:

Complete.

Counsel, later that day,

Came with help to make sense of ‘across’ and ‘down’

Crumpet and Chocolate

Cracked eggs to make an omelette.

Completed a most excellent novel in between steps, tears and mouthfuls.

Can I tell you about the book? Tomorrow?

Daily Prompt