Always the Fool

From Pinterest

From Pinterest

What a fool to play with fools at love
walking into madness, chaos and disaster.
Again, and again, and again…
You’d think I would learn, not to yearn, to let go
of any hope?
But a fool I am, at least in my dreams
where it still seems
that love is.

I always seem to do this at the beginning of NaPoWriMo… Start of writing for one prompt, then look around at other sites and find other prompts that just won’t let me go! Considering (these days) I almost only write for NaPoWriMo, I think I can afford to do more than one poem/day… At least today! So this is for Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, where today’s prompt was to be inspired by April Fool’s day – or more specifically ‘fool’.


It begins

Revving our engines
April’s fool!
Springtime poetry

Roaring engines come to life
2016 April first
Springtime sunshine greets our poetry.

Today marks the beginning of National Poetry Writing Month 2016, and the first optional prompt is to write a lune. A lune is a haiku-style poem, with the syllable count 5-3-5, or a word count 5-3-5, and I thought it appropriate to write about the start of NaPoWriMo. Good luck everyone who’s taking part!


A Lack of Trust


Mag 309

I sense that you don’t trust me,
that you don’t believe I’m real.
That you don’t think that what I show
is truly how I feel.

I sense your deep set scepticism
and I feel all your doubts,
but, honey, if that’s all you have
then what are we about?

If you won’t ever trust me,
never take me at my word,
you won’t believe a thing I say
over anything you’ve heard.

If you cannot look in my eyes
and trust what you can see,
then, honey, there is no more ‘us’
then it’s just you and me.

More practise, I suppose… Magpie TalesMag 309 inspired this one. The look of doubt on that young girl’s face is just priceless!



Photo by CC Champagne 2015

Milky white shrouds of cold air
covering the sun
budding blossoms hide their heads.

Bursting through the clouds above
golden orb of warmth
come out, rise up, enjoy, grow!

Suddenly it’s all around
with blooms, large and small.
Rejoice my friends, spring is here!

So, I haven’t written in almost a year, and this is a feeble attempt at a spring haiku, inspired by the Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille prompt over at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. Obviously I will need some practise to shed those chains of rust that bind a hibernating poet, but National Poetry Writing Month 2016 (April) is just around the corner, and I will – again – attempt to rise to that challenge as well (30 poems in 30 days). Hang around and see how it goes…

Meditation by Odilon Redon (from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie)

Forever I miss you, my one and true
as into the light you’ve gone from me.
My words trickle ink that is just for you.

You rested safe in my arms as you grew
and I knew the man you would one day be.
Forever I miss you, my one and true.

In a world, old and ugly, you were new
with amazement in all you could see.
My words trickle ink that is just for you.

On your tiny grave there are flowers blue
surrounded by the mightiest of trees.
Forever I miss you, my one and true.

Eternally broken, my life is through!
I’ll die on your grave where you’re next to me.
My words trickle ink that is just for you.

There is no tomorrow, there’s no one who
will ever explain, ever make me see.
Forever I miss you, my one and true.
My words trickle ink that is just for you.

This was quickly scribbled, and there’s more that could be done to it, but I just wanted to get it out since I have other things I should be doing. It is supposed to be a Villanelle (four tercets and a quatrain in a AbA2/abA/abA2/abA/abAA2) and the inspiration comes from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and their B&P’s Shadorma and Beyond.

The End is Here

We’re on the cusp of summer and spring is painting the trees with its’ special green brush strokes. Fragile and luminescent, a new season with all its’ colours stand before us. Tonight the fires of cleansing will be lit, burning away the sins of a long dark winter. When the ashes cool tomorrow a new generation will feel entitled to the world and a future they won’t think anyone else ever imagined. All hail to the young!

Me? Well, I’m old and tired. In quite a few ways I’m far less than a spent ink cartridge, only filling in half the letters on the page you’ve tried to print. The one you sigh at on a Friday and vow to have replaced by Monday. And I watch the world turning, once again…

Another year gone… Another thirty or so poems exorcised… Another lot of ‘crap, I didn’t get around to reading all of their poems today, will they still read mine?’ or ‘are we all not just going around in one big circle of patting each other on the back…?’. Another few days of ‘no, I can’t write anything today, I have nothing left to give!’ and a few ‘I just have to stop writing now and go to bed… But just one more!’.

The world is green with fresh leaves, with fresh wonders and annoying kids with their sense of entitlement, but the only promise I can make for the upcoming twelve months – as the choirs around the country are singing ‘The winter rushes down from our hillsides’ – is that I’ll try to enjoy the moments I have. And I’ll try to be here again, maybe even before next April?

I’ll try to stay alive. For some of us, that’s really all you can ask.

Hardly a poem, and as it’s not written to prompt I doubt many will read it, but that’s OK. It’s April 30 and the last day of NaPoWriMo 2015. It’s also Walpurgis Night in Sweden, and in about an hour bonfires will be lit to burn winter away in the tradition of spring and drunk teenagers. I have a few regrets over the past month. Poems I didn’t get to read. Poems I read and couldn’t get myself to comment on. Poems I outright didn’t like and the ever-present thought of ‘why can’t people just read what I write because they like it?’. And I shouldn’t have thought that.

I want to thank everyone who’s been around to read and comment over the past month, as well as the websites I’ve used for inspiration, mainly Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Magpie Tales, but also The Sunday Whirligig and of course NaPoWriMo. I don’t know if I’ll be back tomorrow or if I’ll be back next year. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back. But I want to thank all of those people who’ve actually spent time reading my scribbles and commenting. I’m sorry if I haven’t returned all the favours…


Inga From Sweden

Riddarsporre (in Swedish)

This isn’t fair, it’s really not, this poetic prompt of yours!
I speak the language, but am mute when it comes to the outdoors!
Converse and write, yes I can, read and dream as well
but when it comes to flower names it’s pure linguistic hell!

OK, I don’t know most of them in my own language either.
Before you ask me, yes it does mark me as an outsider.
I love to watch them bloom and grow, I love to take their pictures
but wouldn’t know a larkspur’s name… That’s how it is, go figure!

Today’s beautiful prompt (a poem in itself, actually) over at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, called Frog Cups in New York City challenged us to write a short poem about either a flower that took its’ name from an animal, or a bird that took its’ name from a flower. Well… English is my second language, and though I consider myself more or less fluent in it (at least I used to be), anyone who isn’t a keen gardener or flower-freak will probably tell you that the names of flowers (and possibly words like haberdashery and hearth) aren’t exactly up there with the things you learn, use and retain in language you don’t immerse yourself in constantly… So this is my rant on that topic. Didn’t feel like I could allow myself to miss two days in a row when I’ve almost completed the NaPoWriMo 2015 challenge.