# Jen's NaPoWriMo Poems



## jenthepen (Apr 1, 2021)

April 1

transparent morning​ with fragrance of pheromones​ life moves on still air​


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## Firemajic (Apr 1, 2021)

Lovely! You created such a beguiling mood with 11 words....


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## Gumby (Apr 1, 2021)

Just lovely, Jen! Like Juls I love how much you've said with so few words and the mood was immediate.


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## TuesdayEve (Apr 1, 2021)

Hey jen! Life moves on still air...its a great line!


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## VRanger (Apr 1, 2021)

Yea! A haiku buddy!


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## jenthepen (Apr 2, 2021)

Thanks everyone! I think that was the high point - things could go downhill from here. 

Hey, vranger. Keep 'em coming haiku buddy. I'm all over the place, depending on time and inspiration, but I hope to throw in the odd haiku along the way this month.


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## jenthepen (Apr 2, 2021)

April 2​ *
GREENS*​  

 Mrs Banks had scary eyes
of palest young-celery-green.​ More worrying, the cat-like pupils​ that opened in a sideways slit.​ At five-years-old, EYES fed my dreams​ and many waking hours.​ ​ Mrs Banks was a dinner lady.​ “Eat up your greens!” her favourite cry.​ Young eyes on my plate,​ I ate up my greens​ and hoped to deflect the awful glare​ of those scary pale green eyes.​ ​ I worried a lot that all these greens​ might turn my eyes to the same pale green​ but the fear of attracting attention was greater​ than any mutations that might happen later.​ ​ A boy in my class had funny eyes,​ one of them blue and the other brown.​ But nothing as scary as Mrs Banks​ and her peculiar cat-like eyes.


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## Firemajic (Apr 2, 2021)

The child comes through in this poem and the imagery is eerie.... your story telling skills are showing


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## Darren White (Apr 3, 2021)

Eyes can be so scary, yes? I felt that poem, I could be that child.


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## jenthepen (Apr 3, 2021)

You caught the mood perfectly, Darren. I was that child and those eyes had a big effect on me.


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## jenthepen (Apr 3, 2021)

April 3

*Choice*​ ​  A cat is a super observer.
If it moves, then he’s one of the best.
He notices comings and goings,
 intruders along with the rest.

 
But a cat is the ultimate villain,
never grasses, even if pressed.
So, for burglars, intruders and vandals
 a camera is probably best.

​


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## Darren White (Apr 4, 2021)

I love it how you have described, in two stanzas, the contradiction that can be cat.


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## Firemajic (Apr 4, 2021)

Such a clever portrait of the "cat attitude".... loved it!


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## jenthepen (Apr 4, 2021)

April 4

*Man of Nature*​ ​ He had a life entwined with nature​ in the wilderness or the garden,​ all his thoughts were centred on​ planting trees and watching birds.​ It seems absurd but I can’t help thinking​ that in that blinking of an eye​ when he was gone​ things should have stopped. ​ ​ Yet trees keep budding​ and birds keep nesting​ as though he had never been.​


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## Darren White (Apr 5, 2021)

Beautiful poem, Jen. I was only wondering at 'it' at the end of S1 L3
I think you could do without, the line would walk seamlessly into L4


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## jenthepen (Apr 5, 2021)

That's a great suggestion, Darren. It's done.


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## jenthepen (Apr 5, 2021)

April 5

 

 *Arthur Eggshell*​  

 Arthur Eggshell was despised
because he always criticised.
‘No, that’s not it! Not right at all!’
was what he said to one and all.
He always thought that he was right
and that gave him the appetite
 to rant at strangers in the street
and even coppers on the beat.
‘Just get it right! Why can’t you see
that’s not the way – look, just watch me!’
Such was the way he’d remonstrate
and then proceed to demonstrate.
Of course, folks tended to get mad
and all agreed his ways were bad
but nothing anyone could do
would shift old Arthur’s point of view.

 
Then, one day, Arthur Eggshell died,
went heavenward, there to abide.
But he was barely through the door,
when he was ranting as before,
‘You call this heaven? It’s not right!
 Those pearly gates just don’t fit tight.
You’d think Archangels would be able
to live up to the Earthly fable!
 But no, this place is quite a mess
and I must say, I’m not impressed.’
‘Well,’ said Saint Peter, ‘if that’s so,
 why don’t you try out Down Below?’

 
So that’s what Arthur Eggshell did,
 went off to Hell as he was bid.
When Satan got news of the move
he certainly did not approve.
He said, ‘down here, we have a standard,
despite the holy propaganda.’
He barricaded up the gate
and made the Imp Patrol work late.
Then Arthur turned up at the door,
but no less angry than before.
‘You call these barricades!’ he said,
‘I could do better on my head!’
The Devil’s voice was awful sly,
‘If that’s your choice, well, just stand by.
You’ll find your building blocks right there.’
Then Arthur was flipped in the air.
The Devil grinned, ‘You take your time.
Eternity is your deadline!’​


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## Firemajic (Apr 6, 2021)

Jen, your poem #4... ""Man of Nature"" is so lovely and it reminds me of how I felt when my mother was killed... she always fed the birds and loved to watch them in her flower gardens... after she was gone, I would sit on her front porch swing and watch the birds, busy in her garden and it just blew my mind that they were there, and she was gone... but in all reality, they couldn't have known....


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## Firemajic (Apr 6, 2021)

Arthur Eggshell, jen, jen, jen!! You are so slick with those rhyming couplets! One of my favorite poetic devices... it perfectly fits this deeelightfully devvvelish poem... I loveIT! You spun a fabulous yarn and this showcased your storytelling skills....


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## jenthepen (Apr 6, 2021)

Firemajic said:


> Jen, your poem #4... ""Man of Nature"" is so lovely and it reminds me of how I felt when my mother was killed... she always fed the birds and loved to watch them in her flower gardens... after she was gone, I would sit on her front porch swing and watch the birds, busy in her garden and it just blew my mind that they were there, and she was gone... but in all reality, they couldn't have known....



I'm so glad you 'got' this one, my special friend. My brother was only truly happy when he was in the great outdoors and, as you say, the fact that things go on just the same, without these 'people of nature' being there to witness it, seems somehow wrong. I console myself by knowing that all the trees my brother planted, and the knowledge that he passed on, only continue today because of him. The same for your mother's birds - many of them would never have hatched without her nurturing supply of food.

Glad you enjoyed Arthur Eggshell.


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## Firemajic (Apr 6, 2021)

Yes, and like your Brother, my mom left me with a great love of nature and all the wild things....


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## jenthepen (Apr 6, 2021)

April 6

*Quick Limerick
*
A worm who believed he could swim
 found a birdbath filled up to the brim.
​  He slithered inside
​  and very soon died,​  victim of an ill-thought-out whim.​


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## Darren White (Apr 7, 2021)

Jen, that's the funniest limerick I've read in ages  And the rhymes are quite wonderful. Not only end rhyme, also internal rhymes, slant ones, alliteration, love it.


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## Firemajic (Apr 7, 2021)

I agree with Darren, Limericks are one of my guilty pleasures, they look deceptively simple, but are not that easy to get your message within the confine of the structure... you made this look effortless, and it is delicious... poetry candy....


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## alana (Apr 7, 2021)

I love this. My friend just got a worm farm and they're always trying to escape! Limericks are such a breath of fresh air and you hit the nail on the head with this one.



jenthepen said:


> April 6
> 
> *Quick Limerick
> *
> ...


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## jenthepen (Apr 7, 2021)

Darren White said:


> Jen, that's the funniest limerick I've read in ages  And the rhymes are quite wonderful. Not only end rhyme, also internal rhymes, slant ones, alliteration, love it.



You are very kind, Darren. Thank you for the detailed read. 



Firemajic said:


> I agree with Darren, Limericks are one of my guilty pleasures, they look deceptively simple, but are not that easy to get your message within the confine of the structure... you made this look effortless, and it is delicious... poetry candy....



You're right, poetry candy! I don't feel so guilty about shoving a limerick into the mix now that people have said they enjoyed it. It felt like a bit of an easy option when everyone is producing such high-flyers but hey-ho, if I can get away with it, I'm not above chancing another one or two before the end of the month. 



alana said:


> I love this. My friend just got a worm farm and they're always trying to escape! Limericks are such a breath of fresh air and you hit the nail on the head with this one.



Hi alana and welcome to the madhouse.  I love the idea of that leaky worm farm. I can imagine the nightmare of trying to keep them all contained - fences wouldn't be a lot of good!  You've got the makings of a really funny poem there.


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## Firemajic (Apr 7, 2021)

Jen, I am working on several, but they do not sound as flawless as yours... ;(


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## jenthepen (Apr 7, 2021)

Firemajic said:


> Jen, I am working on several, but they do not sound as flawless as yours... ;(



Bring 'em on, my friend. You haven't seen my other offerings yet - the standard isn't guaranteed.


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## Firemajic (Apr 7, 2021)

be careful what you ask for.... [ creepy music rises to a crescendo!!!]


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## jenthepen (Apr 7, 2021)

April 7*

Poppies*

All around warming flowerbeds,  
poppies unpack their busty buds  
and dance in their crumpled dresses of red.  
 
As descant to the blackbird’s flair,  
Robin strikes up a jaunty tune,  
a rhythm to vibrate the fragrant air.  

Bees in their black and yellow grace
partner with the poppies in red  
for dirty dancing at a frantic pace.  

Whirling and bending in their quest,  
poppies arch and flutter their eyes  
 at serial partners in yellow vests.  

Before too long, the dance is done  
and standing in their ragged frocks,  
exhausted poppies, alone in the sun.

Tiny, shrivelled, remnants of red
feed the beetles and ladybugs
in the summer heat on the flower beds.

 Young dancers in new season’s fashions 
flirt with the   bees in yellow vests,  
while   the Robin sings with renewed passion.

With bloated bodies fit to burst,
sad poppies now grown fat and old,  
shower their seeds on the waiting earth.
​


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## Pulse (Apr 7, 2021)

Jen

My favourite rhymes of yours are slightly slant, e.g. burst/earth, or mess/impressed.  You use so many poetic devices that none are overdone.


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## TuesdayEve (Apr 7, 2021)

#4
I think there’s a bit of your brother in every tree,
his thoughts and energy, choosing the right tree 
for right location and having the foresight of their 
growth beyond sapling. 
His DNA is a part of every tree and flower
he planted.

#5 
What a hoot! (Big wide smile through the whole
read.) And I loved...standard....holy propaganda!


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## alana (Apr 8, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> Before too long, the dance is done
> and standing in their ragged frocks,
> exhausted poppies, alone in the sun.
> ​



I love the way you bring the poppies to life - I feel like I've lived a whole day/season in the life of a poppy in this poem.


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## Firemajic (Apr 8, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 7*
> 
> Poppies*
> 
> ...



Ahhh the flamboyance of those frilly poppies frolicking in the flower beds... They can be fickle, and not bloom, if they are not happy... sooo your last stanza, line 2 "sad poppies now grown old and fat"... sad does not fit the poppy personality... 

maybe... pregnant poppies now grown fat
shower their seeds on the waiting earth.... or welcoming instead of waiting...

anyway, just my thoughts, this poem is fabulous as is, my friend and showcases your gentle poetic voice, full of joy...


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## jenthepen (Apr 8, 2021)

TuesdayEve said:


> #4
> I think there’s a bit of your brother in every tree,
> his thoughts and energy, choosing the right tree
> for right location and having the foresight of their
> ...



Your words about my brother are really beautiful. Thank you! My brother worked with trees all his life and even bought some woodland of his own, where he planted a tree for each one of the family, adding more as babies were born. For him, trees had their own personalities and he chose every one with care. So, you see, your message made perfect sense to me and summed up my brother so well.

And I'm glad you enjoyed Arthur Eggshell.  I always have fun writing mad poems! 



alana said:


> I love the way you bring the poppies to life - I feel like I've lived a whole day/season in the life of a poppy in this poem.



Thanks, alana.  I guess I'm a bit like my brother (see my reply to TuesdayEve above) in that I tend to give anything a personality - flowers, insects, you name it. 



Firemajic said:


> Ahhh the flamboyance of those frilly poppies frolicking in the flower beds... They can be fickle, and not bloom, if they are not happy... sooo your last stanza, line 2 "sad poppies now grown old and fat"... sad does not fit the poppy personality...
> 
> maybe... pregnant poppies now grown fat
> shower their seeds on the waiting earth.... or welcoming instead of waiting...
> ...



Thanks, my friend. I get what you're saying absolutely but I also had a little side motive with this poem. I was trying to depict the sad old tale of youthful beauty, fun and sexiness being overtaken by pregnancy, responsibility and being excluded from the 'mating game' that goes on without them. Those bedraggled old poppies going to seed struck me as a bit sad in the midst of the flamboyance of the rest of the garden.


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## jenthepen (Apr 8, 2021)

April 8

*Perhaps*

Sometimes, I wonder what might have been
 if things had stayed as they were.

But at one year old, a cold  
 that turned to pneumonia almost at once.
Crisis from an oasis of calm.
There was an ambulance and a hospital cot
 but not even that might have been so bad
if maternal connections had not been frayed
but pregnancy and mental illness
 never play a supporting role.

Her father visited every day
 to sit by her tiny, lifeless form.
Him with the chaplain, performing last rites
on a child who had barely lived.
 But rally she did and formed a bond
with the man who embodied the life she had known.
He carried her home and nurtured her there
 and all might still have been well.

But pregnancies always come to an end
 and suddenly, a brother was born.
A son! A healthy boy!
Even a two-year-old can sense joy.
 She never regained that special bond
 and slowly retreated to a space inside
 where misery grew and jealousy fed
the spite in her tiny, unhappy head.

I sometimes wonder what might have been
if things had stayed as they were.​


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## Darren White (Apr 9, 2021)

There's a lot of sadness in this poem. So much sorrow and confusion for a little child.


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## jenthepen (Apr 9, 2021)

Darren White said:


> There's a lot of sadness in this poem. So much sorrow and confusion for a little child.



Thanks, Darren. Yes, I often think that traumatic experiences in childhood act as a kind of turbo charge for the innate character that is forming in the infant's mind. Strong characters will grow stronger and find reserves of self-preservation that amaze those around them. The more timorous character will collapse under the stress and suffer a life that never seems to get off the starting blocks in any sort of normal way. With this poem, I was exploring these ideas around innate character. It's still a bit ragged round the edges but I was trying to show the effect of events without making any judgements or assumptions around the reactions of the child. I'm not sure I've quite achieved that yet but I can come back to this one later.  Thanks for reading and leaving a comment.


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## jenthepen (Apr 9, 2021)

April 9

This one is in direct response to Firemajic's excellent and hysterically funny limerick, _Ode to a Worm_ and inspired by alana's hilarious _leaky worm farm limerick._

*Owed to a Goose*

Hector's mum and all the rest of his kin
had decided they would do the goose in.
They plotted to grab him
and then quickly stab him.
You can see where this sad tale is headin'


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## Firemajic (Apr 9, 2021)

"Perhaps" poem#8.... jen, this poem is heartbreaking, and when viewed through the eyes of a child, it is devastating... So many times, the parent is not even aware of how a child internalizes other's actions... leaving a life long wound that defines them forever...

In my poem 'collecting Bones"  [ I think it is #8 in my NaPo]... I wrote about that very thing, and this poem validates my POV, and you expressed this much more in depth... very well penned...


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## Firemajic (Apr 9, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 9
> 
> This one is in direct response to Firemajic's excellent and hysterically funny limerick, _Ode to a Worm_ and inspired by alana's hilarious _leaky worm farm limerick._
> 
> ...





"""OWED""... verrrry clever word play on my "ODE"....this is %$#%$ halirious!


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## jenthepen (Apr 9, 2021)

Firemajic said:


> """OWED""... verrrry clever word play on my "ODE"....this is %$#%$ halirious!



I'm glad you enjoyed it. I've a feeling there could be more adventures from the leaky worm farm before the end of the month. Incidentally, when I read the quote of my post in your reply, I realised the syllable count and rhythm was all over the place. :hopelessness: I've been back to edit it into shape.

I think your poem, Collecting Bones, was what inspired me to write poem No. 9. I certainly felt the child's pain running through the whole story in your poem and it affected me a lot. Your poems have a habit of evoking strong emotion in me.


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## Firemajic (Apr 9, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> Thanks, my friend. I get what you're saying absolutely but I also had a little side motive with this poem. I was trying to depict the sad old tale of youthful beauty, fun and sexiness being overtaken by pregnancy, responsibility and being excluded from the 'mating game' that goes on without them. Those bedraggled old poppies going to seed struck me as a bit sad in the midst of the flamboyance of the rest of the garden.



Ahhhhhh, of course! You are absolutely right... that adds even more depth to this poem..."sad" fit perfectly...


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## jenthepen (Apr 10, 2021)

April 10

 cover of soft black
​  myriad sequins applied
​  cloak for rich and poor​


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## VRanger (Apr 10, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 10
> 
> cover of soft black
> 
> ...



The first thing that popped into my head was Elvis Pressley's funeral. ;-)


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## dannyboy (Apr 10, 2021)

lovely poem.


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## Firemajic (Apr 11, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 10
> 
> cover of soft black
> ​  myriad sequins applied
> ​  cloak for rich and poor​



Maybe a star lit night sky... lovely imagery....


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## jenthepen (Apr 11, 2021)

Haha, Firemajic wins! It is about the night sky and how the majesty and beauty of it is not reserved only for the rich. I liked the idea of Elvis's funeral though - probably almost as glittery as the night sky I imagine.


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## jenthepen (Apr 11, 2021)

April 11* Connections*

 
She reappeared like a phoenix.
Rose up,  
as though she had never been lost.
 The threatening frown and firm set mouth
were gone and, in their place,
those laughing eyes, that flash of a smile,
the friend that I had known.

 
It only lasted seconds before  
the quicksand dragged her back.
But in those fleeting moments
 of clarity and surprise,
 those knowing eyes had locked on mine
just long enough to let me know  
her spirit had not been drowned.​


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## Firemajic (Apr 11, 2021)

This is a poem of deep insight and hope, as long as one can still see that glimmer of the person, they are not lost and with patience and compassion, may return to you... the pain of losing that person is expressed, but so is understanding and hope...beautifully and poignantly expressed....


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## TuesdayEve (Apr 11, 2021)

#8
It makes one reflect and wonder about events
in their own life, and if everything happens for a 
reason, where does that leave one now? Do we 
have a choice? 

#11
The last stanza, wow....the quicksand dragged her 
back...
I can only imagine it was the same for her, feeling
a moment of her old self meeting your eyes.


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## Darren White (Apr 11, 2021)

@11
This is very, very beautiful.
There are those people I write about, over and over again. Explore them, myself, how we related from each possible angle, and in all possible colors, like a prism. It doesn't remove the hurt, but it helps giving feelings a place.


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## jenthepen (Apr 12, 2021)

Firemajic said:


> This is a poem of deep insight and hope, as long as one can still see that glimmer of the person, they are not lost and with patience and compassion, may return to you... the pain of losing that person is expressed, but so is understanding and hope...beautifully and poignantly expressed....



Thank you for the way you see right down to the bones of a poem, firey friend. Your thoughts are always insightful, kind and very much appreciated.



TuesdayEve said:


> #8
> It makes one reflect and wonder about events
> in their own life, and if everything happens for a
> reason, where does that leave one now? Do we
> ...



Thank you, Tuesday. I'm so happy that my words made you wonder about life so deeply. You have the insight and curiosity to pick up an idea and run with it, which is a rare and wonderful talent.

Your comment about my poem number 11 was interesting too. I never considered how that moment might have been for my friend. Now, you have given _me_ a lot to think about. 



Darren White said:


> @11
> This is very, very beautiful.
> There are those people I write about, over and over again. Explore them, myself, how we related from each possible angle, and in all possible colors, like a prism. It doesn't remove the hurt, but it helps giving feelings a place.



That's exactly what I do, Darren. Thank you for understanding that.


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## jenthepen (Apr 12, 2021)

12 April

 *When Granma watches **Telly*
 

 When Granma watches telly
we all have to watch it too.
 It’s on as loud as it will go
so there’s nothing else to do.

 
The neighbours get the soundtrack,
the postman gets the gist,
even the folks in passing cars
 snatch bits of what they’ve missed.

 
The glass shakes in the windows,
 teeth rattle in their sockets,
the noise is reminiscent of
a jump jet’s retro rockets.

 
Ma hides out in the garden,
Pa slinks off to his mate’s,
the dog has packed his bowl and lead
 and is at the Dog’s Home gates.

 
But Granma doesn’t notice.
 It’s not that she’s ignoring
 all the distress surrounding her,
she’s just too busy snoring!
​


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## VRanger (Apr 12, 2021)

HiLarious with a capital H and a capital L.


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## Firemajic (Apr 12, 2021)

Well wellwelllll.... sneaky Jen, you have exposed your fabulous funny bone in this ear splittin' saga! Love how you included allll the collateral fall out.... from the neighbors to the postman and even the dog... and grandma? she snores through it all.... this is so well thought out, and deliberate, it is chilling to my struggles as a poet, that you can pen this under the duress of NaPo, and have it so concise and well written... bravo!


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## alana (Apr 12, 2021)

Yesss - bring on the limericks!! I love this. We'll have a whole farm going soon.




jenthepen said:


> April 9
> 
> This one is in direct response to Firemajic's excellent and hysterically funny limerick, _Ode to a Worm_ and inspired by alana's hilarious _leaky worm farm limerick._
> 
> ...


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## alana (Apr 12, 2021)

(11) is a beautiful piece of writing. I love poems that explore fragments of people, relationships, lost and found - there's really no end to what can be said and all the different ways you can arrange your words. This arrangement was particularly lovely and captured that emotion of something lost but briefly found again and again.


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## jenthepen (Apr 13, 2021)

13 *Murder in the Bathroom*

Black speck in the bathroom sink!
Spray bleach, the automatic firearm  
for a careless housewife activist,
when the end will justify the  
distracted mind, busy behind  
the headphones, aligned  
with the songs of Paolo Nutini,
who fills the housework hours.

 
Taking aim, the trigger finger
hesitates as it waits for the beat,
joined to the pulsating rhythm
that lingers in the brain.
Suddenly, a leg emerges,  
pushes from a minute body.
The tiny creature  hauls itself up  
and crawls around the sink.

 
Murder averted, the horror of it  
concentrates the mind.
Pictures of those six legs waving
from a wet and writhing body,
come to life in imagination,
crowd the thoughts, ears disconnect,
complete distraction, and Paolo Nutini
 is ejected from the mind.
 

 Damp tissue paper scoops him up,
 deposits him outside.
 It seems incredible to think  
a speck, so insignificant,
could live and thrive
in a world where his presence
 cannot be perceived -
except when he’s in the sink.​


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## TuesdayEve (Apr 13, 2021)

Oh I love that! You saved the little critter and put 
him outside, (I do that too). Nor can he perceive
 our world. I have a teeny weeny itsy bitsy spider 
who lives in my bathroom. I watch her occasionally.
She webs under the radiator and every so often I 
destroy her hard labors. Happily, she stays in the 
bathroom. She has everything she needs, a water 
source and dead skin.
I laughed out loud S2 L1-2-3...totally in the zone!


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## Darren White (Apr 14, 2021)

This one makes me smile, Jen. Especially that last stanza.
And what are we but insignificant and invisible, seen from space?


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## Firemajic (Apr 14, 2021)

Dear Jen, loved your POV and your empathy for such a tiny creature, unnoticed until it encroaches on your territory... I am always scooping those fat, fuzzy Honey Bees out of the bird bath, I cannot bear the thought of them drowning...


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## jenthepen (Apr 14, 2021)

TuesdayEve said:


> Oh I love that! You saved the little critter and put
> him outside, (I do that too). Nor can he perceive
> our world. I have a teeny weeny itsy bitsy spider
> who lives in my bathroom. I watch her occasionally.
> ...



Thanks, Tuesday. I'm so glad I'm in the company of a fellow nut.  I love the idea of your pet spider - she sounds adorable! Our spiders have all been on body-building courses if their size is anything to go by - and their webs!! You could knit with them. I keep a special bowl for collecting the spiders so I can put them outside. We seem to get a lot of wildlife indoors. We've had baby jackdaws down the chimney and a robin that stole food from inside the kitchen. The weirdest visitor was a newt that turned up in the corner of our livingroom. They were all escorted back outside.
Oh yes, my houseworking methods! I hate the wretched job so much, I have always worn headphones and blasted my favourite songs into my brain as I go about hoovering and dusting. It's amazing how it eases the pain of having to do the cleaning.  



Darren White said:


> This one makes me smile, Jen. Especially that last stanza.
> And what are we but insignificant and invisible, seen from space?



Nice thought, Darren. Sometimes, we can get an inflated view of our own importance on this planet. It pays to remember our vulnerability as a species sometimes, as Covid seems to be reminding us at the moment. 



Firemajic said:


> Dear Jen, loved your POV and your empathy for such a tiny creature, unnoticed until it encroaches on your territory... I am always scooping those fat, fuzzy Honey Bees out of the bird bath, I cannot bear the thought of them drowning...



Your empathy for all living things has always been clear to me - I still remember the family of baby squirrels that you reared. I worry about bees in the birdbath too. I used to leave a stick half submerged to allow them to climb out but the birds used to knock that out of the way. Now I place a suitable rock in there so they can crawl up onto it.


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## Firemajic (Apr 14, 2021)

ahhhh Jen!! YESSSS! those 3 free baby squirrels... cost me hundreds of dollars, but the pleasure they gave to me was priceless...That is a good tip, putting a rock in the bird bath, I will do that... I always knew we were kindred spirits.... sooo cool....


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## jenthepen (Apr 14, 2021)

April 14

*when time runs out*
​  
​  
​  at ten you were already a surrogate
​  for a steady absentee
​  hungry mouths with a dependency​  plus a tendency to take what they need​  and never read between the lines​  to see that you deserved a life too
​  
​  strange, this cold new situation​  this sudden isolation
​  every chance of change now gone
​  clears a mind​  and make tears run
​  when time runs out.  ​


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## Firemajic (Apr 15, 2021)

This is painfully true, I did not know my Mother was at times, unhappy, until as an adult, she expressed to me some of her dreams that went unfulfilled....children see their parents as a different species, without a life separate from them.... your first stanza expressed this poignantly....


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## jenthepen (Apr 15, 2021)

April 15

*Freewheeling*​  

 Spider white, spider light
floating on the breeze
relaxing and accepting
while maxing out perception
content to be sent to
wherever life may lead.​ ​


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## Firemajic (Apr 15, 2021)

This has a mystical vibe... like a spider prayer  maybe a prayer of thanks from the spider you rescued from your drain.... yessss


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## jenthepen (Apr 16, 2021)

Mystic Jen... I like it!  The origin of this one was a bit more mundane though. I noticed a hatch of baby spiders in the garden and each one was trailing out a length of silk and using it as a parachute to carry it off on the wind. It's the way they disperse, I suppose. Come to think of it, that's pretty mystical in itself.


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## Firemajic (Apr 16, 2021)

Nature is magical, mysterious... I love the idea of those baby spiderlings setting sail on silk parachutes....


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## TuesdayEve (Apr 16, 2021)

So true....sometimes we are swept in the wind, 
having to ride it out and see where we land.


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## jenthepen (Apr 16, 2021)

April 16

*Nonsense*​ 
A porcupine out for a walk​ met a pangolin riding a stork.​ He said, “That is strange​ but not quite as deranged​ as a porcupine able to talk.”​


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## Firemajic (Apr 17, 2021)

lol... clevvver jen.....


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## jenthepen (Apr 17, 2021)

April 17*


The Fixer*​ ​ To her, the world was a puzzle,​ a box of broken pieces​ that only she could fix.​ She struggled under the weight of it​ but always managed in the end​ to bend reality to fit.​


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## Firemajic (Apr 18, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 17*
> 
> 
> The Fixer*​ ​ To her, the world was a puzzle,​ a box of broken pieces​ that only she could fix.​ She struggled under the weight of it​ but always managed in the end​ to bend reality to fit.​



It is daunting to try to fit the pieces back together, after your life has been dismantled... a heavy burden...the struggle is real... and when the pieces do not fit, or some of the pieces are gone, that is when there is REAL courage... creating a new reality ...

This feels like a very personal poem and maybe an ongoing process, I think maybe one needs to take the broken pieces and create something completely different, a "new normal"... this is a poignant poem that shows great inner strength and acceptance ....


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## jenthepen (Apr 18, 2021)

Creating a new normal sounds like a positive thing to do. Thank you for the wise and comforting words, my friend.

​


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## jenthepen (Apr 18, 2021)

April 18

*Just for Fun?*​ ​ Why is a good word​ and so is fizz​ but don’t try eaten​ or ate or even teat​ you will be beaten if you do.​ ​ I once knew a guy​ who tried rot, gut and tike​ but sadly for him​ the only word​ that would have been worthwhile​ was disallowed​ for a spelling mistake.​ ​ Some say the best word is​ Oxyphenbutazone​ but that’s just pretentious​ which, incidentally,​ is not as good as it looks.​


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## dannyboy (Apr 18, 2021)

very clever.


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## Firemajic (Apr 19, 2021)

"Why" IS a good word... I use it often when Smoooch [ my Pit bull] tears up something, or when another driver cuts me off.... anyway... cool stuff, Jen... and don't ask me "why"....


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## jenthepen (Apr 19, 2021)

I love the idea of a pit bull called Smooch. His image around the neighbourhood must have been severely compromised. 

Why _is_ a good word and you've just reminded me of a poem I've been struggling to write for ages. It's called _Why is Yellow?_ I might just get back onto that one.

I knew this one would cause confusion.  It's actually about a game called Scrabble where you have to make words from a random selection of letter tiles. The letters have different values and whoever scores most points, when all the tiles have been used, wins. That's why _pretentious_ isn't as good as it looks because, although it has loads of letters, they mostly only score one point for each letter.


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## Firemajic (Apr 19, 2021)

Well, Smoooch LOOKS intimidating, but the only danger to a stranger is Smoooch covering them with sloppy kisses... 

Scrabble! well, now I see this poem is brilliant...I reread it and I love it... clevvver Jen....


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## Firemajic (Apr 19, 2021)

Ooo... "Why is yellow"... that sounds like a fabulous children's book !!... write the poem Jen, I am intrigued...


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## jenthepen (Apr 19, 2021)

Apologies to Smoooch for getting the number of ooo's wrong! Such a smooooochy dog certainly deserves 3 o's.

Well, the Why is Yellow poem was going to be a tribute to Stanley Holloway and his Albert and the Lion poem but now you have given me an idea for another poem about a curious little girl who was always asking impossible questions. I have 2 poems to write now!


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## jenthepen (Apr 19, 2021)

April 19

A maggot that lived in a meat 'n​ potato pie that was only half eaten​ tried his best to complete it​ and totally eat it​ but soon had to admit he was beaten.​


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## TuesdayEve (Apr 19, 2021)

#17 are universal words, humanly universal


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## Darren White (Apr 20, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 19
> 
> A maggot that lived in a meat 'n​ potato pie that was only half eaten​ tried his best to complete it​ and totally eat it​ but soon had to admit he was beaten.​


He should ask his army of friends to help him


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## alana (Apr 20, 2021)

Words are so fun!! Love this 



jenthepen said:


> April 18
> 
> *Just for Fun?*​ ​ Why is a good word​ and so is fizz​ but don’t try eaten​ or ate or even teat​ you will be beaten if you do.​ ​ I once knew a guy​ who tried rot, gut and tike​ but sadly for him​ the only word​ that would have been worthwhile​ was disallowed​ for a spelling mistake.​ ​ Some say the best word is​ Oxyphenbutazone​ but that’s just pretentious​ which, incidentally,​ is not as good as it looks.​


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## Firemajic (Apr 20, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> Apologies to Smoooch for getting the number of ooo's wrong! Such a smooooochy dog certainly deserves 3 o's.
> 
> Well, the Why is Yellow poem was going to be a tribute to Stanley Holloway and his Albert and the Lion poem but now you have given me an idea for another poem about a curious little girl who was always asking impossible questions. I have 2 poems to write now!



Smoooch is very forgiving 

I don't believe I have ever read Stanley Holloway's poetry, I will look that up ') I am more intrigued than ever about your poem... and the curious girl who asks too many questions sounds adorable...


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## Firemajic (Apr 20, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 19
> 
> A maggot that lived in a meat 'n​ potato pie that was only half eaten​ tried his best to complete it​ and totally eat it​ but soon had to admit he was beaten.​



What a glutton... the imagery is hilarious...:coffeescreen:


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## jenthepen (Apr 20, 2021)

April 20

 *A Sad State of Affairs*
 

 Cockerels cry in the morning.
Foxes cry in the night.
The drunkard cries into his beer.
The gambler cries at his plight.

 
There is sadness the whole world over.
 ’Though it’s a terrible sight to see,
the tears that seem to matter most
are the ones that are shed by me.
​


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## Firemajic (Apr 20, 2021)

Love the rhyme scheme you used,  just rolls off the tongue, as smooth as honey... This feels different than most of your work the first 4 lines perfectly set the last stanza...a very melancholy vibe, which I love...


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## TuesdayEve (Apr 20, 2021)

Silly to melancholy jen, I can relate!
Are you a Gemini?


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## jenthepen (Apr 21, 2021)

Firemajic said:


> Love the rhyme scheme you used,  just rolls off the tongue, as smooth as honey... This feels different than most of your work the first 4 lines perfectly set the last stanza...a very melancholy vibe, which I love...



I don't think very much is sounding like my normal style with the frantic pressure of NaPo  I'm groping for inspiration from old poets, songs, jokes - anything that can drag out a poem of sorts! I'll be writing nursery rhymes next!! 




TuesdayEve said:


> Silly to melancholy jen, I can relate!
> Are you a Gemini?



Ha, no not a Gemini - more just a confused and desperate poet at the moment!


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## jenthepen (Apr 21, 2021)

April 21

This one is inspired by Firemajic and her suggestion to write a poem about a curious child...

 *Why?*

 
With a name like Alicia Apple,
expect an unusual child,
 one who will break with convention
and a character quite free and wild.

 
Such a girl was Alicia Apple,
 demanding of answers was she.
The seemingly harder the question,
 the more determinedly curious was she.

 
She bombarded her parents intensely
 with strange questions of vague origin.
 So often, the beleaguered couple
 hardly knew where to begin.
 

 Why does the night time seem longer
than sunshine and bright butterflies?
 And why do the holes in each kittens fur
 exactly fit over their eyes?

 
The questions, it seemed, were relentless,
 Alicia’s quest never waned.
 Why can dogs run so fast when they never eat greens?
And the postman know everyone's name?
 

 Why do I have ears to fit glasses
when my eyes don’t need glasses to see?
Why do most birds and most spiders eat meat
when none of them has any teeth?

 
Her parents try hard to find answers,
astounded at how fast she thinks.
 Why can the moon watch me wherever I go?
And would greens taste better called pinks?

 
Alicia Apple keeps growing,
her inquisitive nature grows too.
Her parents are simply left thinking
some respite is long overdue.

 

 Why would they think that? ​


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## Firemajic (Apr 22, 2021)

lol, Jen, this is priceless and delightful... the questions my Niece asks are just like that and some of them puzzle me because they are really logical questions for a questing mind, you portrayed the innocence of a child who sees the world through unjaded eyes...but it can be exhausting


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## TuesdayEve (Apr 22, 2021)

More, more, more! Whimsical, original, captivating!
‘And would greens taste better called pinks’
The Adventures of Alicia Apple....hmmm


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## jenthepen (Apr 22, 2021)

Firemajic said:


> lol, Jen, this is priceless and delightful... the questions my Niece asks are just like that and some of them puzzle me because they are really logical questions for a questing mind, you portrayed the innocence of a child who sees the world through unjaded eyes...but it can be exhausting



Glad you liked it. I had to restrain myself from making her a real nightmare - the older I get, the less I seem to able to do twee. 



TuesdayEve said:


> More, more, more! Whimsical, original, captivating!
> ‘And would greens taste better called pinks’
> The Adventures of Alicia Apple....hmmm



Thanks, and yes, go for it! Let's see more from Alicia Apple from anyone who's got the energy to give it a go.


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## jenthepen (Apr 22, 2021)

April 22

 A dinosaur went to the zoo
to see if his mates were there too.
When he got through the gates
he saw human primates 
so at least he had something to chew.​


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## Firemajic (Apr 23, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 22
> 
> A dinosaur went to the zoo
> to see if his mates were there too.
> ...



lol... this was a fun read, Jen... really liked the "human primates"


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## jenthepen (Apr 23, 2021)

April 23

*Alicia Apple's little song*

Tomatoes are round
​  and pancakes are flat
​  so how come it’s pancakes
​  make my tummy fat?​


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## Darren White (Apr 24, 2021)

Hahaha, that's wonderful. Something a small child could have written, and there's a little wicked edge to it


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## VRanger (Apr 24, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 20
> 
> *A Sad State of Affairs*
> 
> ...



An instant classic. It's got that "old school" feel and turns to the revelation of a common truth. It feels like I should have read it somewhere else long ago.


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## jenthepen (Apr 24, 2021)

Darren White said:


> Hahaha, that's wonderful. Something a small child could have written, and there's a little wicked edge to it



Thanks, Darren. Yes, it's a sort of follow-on poem to No 21 which is about just such a child. 



vranger said:


> An instant classic. It's got that "old school" feel and turns to the revelation of a common truth. It feels like I should have read it somewhere else long ago.



Yes, thanks vranger. I think it's the rhythm that is reminding you of something you've heard before. I based it on the rhythm of those old rugby songs that used to be popular pub songs years ago. Mine is a bit more refined than those originals though.


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## jenthepen (Apr 24, 2021)

April 24*

God Save Her*​ ​ Her petite frame works against her
as she sits, a bundle of black
on the empty bench.  
See the sad figure,
 in a pool of loneliness
 that is deeper and wider  
than the oceans connecting 
the spiderweb of commonwealth  
she loves.
A love that proves no armour
when life itself runs out.

 
The world watches on
during two minutes of silence,
trusting her continuing command.
 The show will go on,
her rule undisturbed
by the silence that will never end
for her.​ ​


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## Firemajic (Apr 25, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 23
> 
> *Alicia Apple's little song*
> 
> ...




Lol... really... think about it... it sounds logical... right ?


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## Firemajic (Apr 25, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 24*
> 
> God Save Her*​ ​ Her petite frame works against her
> as she sits, a bundle of black
> ...



Love the title... so perfect for the content... I think you painted the perfect portrait... this shows grief, but great resilience, and determination ... one cannot help but feel compassion for the end of a love story...


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## jenthepen (Apr 25, 2021)

April 25


*The Musician*

Tulip the Elephant harboured a dream
 a secret, unspoken, burning ambition
 to lift herself up, from her present position,
 and thrust herself into fame’s beam.

As she hauled on the tree trunks along with her peers,
Tulip determined to sidestep tradition
 and finally bring her dream to its fruition,
 to follow her chosen career.
 
Ignoring the put-downs and all of the sneers,
 she practised her art by twice weekly renditions
 of a musical talent that belied her conditions
and she turned a deaf ear to the sneers.

Her confidence soon dispersed all of her fears
 and she began writing her own compositions,
 which she trumpeted loudly, and danced in addition,
 to her audience’s delighted cheers.
 
The circus turned up, but quite when is unclear,
and Tulip would seize this, her chance to audition
 and show that she was an accomplished musician
 to the bandmaster as he drew near.
 
She bellowed her songs out so loud and so clear,
 projected the tunes with not a single omission
 and showed off her dance steps with a few additions,
 as the bandmaster sipped on his beer.

He pulled out his hankie and mopped at a tear.
“Dear lady,” he said, “this is my proposition,
 that you will accept the lead trumpet position
and the band will all march at the rear.”
 
But Tulip was outraged, a fact she made clear.
“Lead trumpet!” she bellowed, “On no condition!
 In fact, sir, you leave me with the deep suspicion
 that you have imbibed too much beer!”

“My dream was to play in your orchestra, yet
 I completely dismiss your absurd proposition.
 Your musical ear is quite out of commission
or you’d know I play bass clarinet!”​


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## Firemajic (Apr 26, 2021)

This is hilarious.... trumpet indeed!!! Everyone has a dream...this was so fun to read, I have a dream, to write poetry like this for children, you know, get them hooked at an early age, like my GrandMam did for me...this would be perfect...


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## jenthepen (Apr 26, 2021)

April 26

*Lifestyles*

A young vegan from coastal Peru
was out swimming to take in the view.
A shark grabbed his hand
and said I understand
you don't eat meat but, sadly, I do.


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## Firemajic (Apr 27, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 26
> 
> *Lifestyles*
> 
> ...



lol... what a savage twist loveIT!!


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## jenthepen (Apr 27, 2021)

April 27*

Missing Person*​  
Birdsong lays light on vibrating air
 and the breeze is warm on your skin.
 Alive with the quiet background hum,
the day is a soft one.

The storm, when it comes, surprises you
 with a rush of suffocating black.
Waves that tumble and choke the joy
 from a life of lost complacency.
 
Intense and relentless emptiness,  
 your eyes turn inward to solitary red.
The world is a vacuum, dropping,
 makes potatoes of your ears.

Sinking and drifting without resistance,
 through diminishing needles of pain,
 shedding dead weight and landing at last  
 in a cave of surrender and rest.
 
A baby longing for nurture and love,
 questing for fur-lined security  
 and a quiet, silent substitution
for shackles and padlocks and chains.

But something is slowly moving.
A mouse of courage sighs and stirs,
to gnaw the liver-like cover from
 a tiny nugget of resolve.
 
Then you are in the garden.
The breeze is warm on your skin,
the birdsong vibrates on the gentle air
and the day is a soft one.​


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## dannyboy (Apr 27, 2021)

thought this beautiful Jen


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## alana (Apr 28, 2021)

Wow Jen, this is so good. These lines in particular I just love -



> The world is a vacuum, dropping,
> makes potatoes of your ears.



This takes me on such a journey - from the lightness of the day to the deep void and back again. I'll have to read this one a few times!


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## Firemajic (Apr 28, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> April 27*
> 
> Missing Person*​
> Birdsong lays light on vibrating air
> ...




I love the metaphor in this poem... it reminds me of how fragile life is. The peaceful garden sets the tone, then you build poetic tension with the coming storm,  you take your reader through the fear and turmoil, back to the serenity of the peaceful garden... it is brilliant... there is intense desperation, fear and pain, a surrendering to the moment, but hope is still alive...for me, this is one of your best...


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## jenthepen (Apr 28, 2021)

Many thanks to you all for the lovely comments. I was a bit nervous about posting this one - too close to home, I suppose. You absolutely understood the mood, Juls. My head has been to hell and back over the past 6 months, with the trauma of a serious family illness coming during Covid isolation and so soon after the loss of all my siblings. I'm glad you caught the fight back of hope too - it was the thing that kept me going.


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## jenthepen (Apr 28, 2021)

April 28

 *Identity*

Sometimes you have to choose.
Are you with the woman in the battered hat  
and sturdy shoes,
or maybe you feel better instead
alongside the girl with the butterfly
​hovering  above her 
carefully coiffured head?
Sometimes you have to choose.

​


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## Firemajic (Apr 28, 2021)

jenthepen said:


> Many thanks to you all for the lovely comments. I was a bit nervous about posting this one - too close to home, I suppose. You absolutely understood the mood, Juls. My head has been to hell and back over the past 6 months, with the trauma of a serious family illness coming during Covid isolation and so soon after the loss of all my siblings. I'm glad you caught the fight back of hope too - it was the thing that kept me going.



I hope in the writing of this poem, you found that you are healing, there is tremendous courage in your words, and a profound wisdom in knowing that, yes, there is great sorrow, and yes, your life has been changed forever, but there are many wonderful days ahead, my friend, and life can still be good, and gentle, and hope helps this knowledge to flourish...... you inspire me to keep looking forward, and to believe in a future that is still good...
***hugs***


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## jenthepen (Apr 29, 2021)

29 April

Soft echoes hanging
on cavernous evening air
swallowed by deaf night.


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## Firemajic (Apr 29, 2021)

What a lovely ode to evening! I found it intriguing that "soft echoes" were "swallowed by deaf night"...... so poetic...


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## jenthepen (Apr 30, 2021)

April 30

 *We Made It!*​ 
When the journey is long
and stamina low,
the mind is a blank
and the words just won’t flow,
 a few cheerful companions
can alter the mood,
with encouraging banter
our strength is renewed.
 They make the way short,
ban procrastination,
until, all together,
we reach our destination.​


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## Firemajic (Apr 30, 2021)

This poem should be WF's theme song...... Congratulations, my friend... it was a fabulous pleasure to read your lovely collection!\\/:icon_bounce::applause::applause::cupcake::love_heart:en::drinkcoffee:encil::champagne::champagne::champagne:


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