Prayer – (a nonet)

 

NONET

I have recently been introduced to a few different short poetry forms which I am using to help me with my poetry skills and to keep my muse awake when he (yes, he!) starts to yawn. The following one is a nonet.

 A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second line eight syllables, the third line seven syllables, etc… until line nine that finishes with one  syllable.

 PRAYER

 Daring to believe in something good,

a presence larger than myself,

I search through myriad thoughts

and stumble upon prayer.

I try it for size;

it seems to fit

very well

so I

pray

Advertisement

Omniscient

A little light-hearted poem after  the last
rather heavy one 🙂

Omniscient

Two years old,
my human heat pack;
who needs lavender wheat?
Soggy remnants of a once
well dressed gingerbread bear
with generous offer to share;
it’s story time.

“What are all these Grandma?”
Sticky finger-pointing.
Just the question I’d wanted.
I felt like I’d revised
all the right things,
an A star on the cards;
confidence-drenched smile.
“That’s a saxophone,
a trumpet and a trombone.
And this one’s called a euphonium”.
Wide eyed smile; clearly impressed.

There’s a quiet comfort in still
knowing more than he does.

 

Thoughts, reflections and a poem

I have been thinking lately about my blog and what is appropriate to post and what may not be. I will explain.

The blog was born out of a diagnosis of MS in 2011. Shortly after the diagnosis and while I was still in shock, a very good friend who happens to be here on WP, suggested to me that I might give writing poetry a chance; he had more confidence in me than I had. I almost laughed his suggestion out the window right there and then and I would have let it fly off with the birds if it had been left to me alone. But he kept nudging me, very gently and with such genuine faith in me that I decided to have a go. So I began; I would write a poem and then run it by him for feedback, which he gladly gave. This in itself was a massive step for me, to show someone what I had written, however “bad” it may be, and even more of a giant step to find myself in a place where I would accept constructive criticism, even if it was through slightly gritted teeth! When I look at this now, I can see that if we really have a desire to accomplish something, then all we need is encouragement, guidance and a huge dose of blind faith, in order to at least give it a chance.

So the blog was born. I write now for two main reasons, the first being therapy, helping myself manage the monster as I call it, which has set up a permanent home inside my body. And the second reason has followed gradually; I am enjoying writing and having fun with it. As a result of all this I have met, and continue to meet, some wonderful new people who I consider to be real friends even though we have not met in person and probably won’t (Now I can hear my mum!! – “Never say never!”) So while I’m rambling, I want to say a huge thank you to all of you on here for continuing to support and encourage me on this still very new journey; it is so very much appreciated. I know a little more about poetry now than I did and I am enjoying reading good poets and trying to improve my writing skills. I still know very little and I do have to say writing isn’t second nature to me; I do have to try hard to produce something I am reasonably satisfied with.

Back to the beginning of this post. I try to write and post poems which are optimistic and uplifting, even those relating to MS, because this helps me to stay in a positive place. But sometimes when I feel down, as I did recently, I write something accordingly, and find it difficult to include touches of humour, which I know I often do. There is no real conscious effort with this; I think it must be one of my coping strategies and thats no bad thing; I cherish my sense of humour, its a very necessary part of emotional healing. I think what I am trying to say is that when I post poems that seem to emerge from a darker place Im not feeling sorry for myself, I am simply saying how it feels. And I think that is appropriate, but whether it is appropriate here Im not sure and would appreciate your feedback.

The following poem is the one which prompted me to write what I have said above.

Diminished

Don’t try and tell me to focus on
what I can do rather than
what I cant.
Don’t try and tell me that I’m still
the same person I was before,
and don’t tell me what I
can’t do anymore doesn’t matter

because today the computer lead
came out from its socket and
the printer ran out of ink
and I was home alone;
I could fix nothing.
I am tear-streaming;
living in a body that’s
switching itself off.
I feel powerless, trapped
and diminished;
flailing around,
(“not waving but drowning”)
in a pointlessly raging sea of
wishing things were different.

And don’t tell me
tomorrow is another day.

(“Not Waving but Drowning – poem by Stevie Smith)

When We are Ready

Life can be full of challenges,
some of them towering exclamation marks.
I call them hurdles,
not in negativity, but because I believe
we clear them when we are ready
and not a moment before.

Like a young horse being asked
to jump for the first time,
tentative, doubtful, afraid;
a few firm refusals,
perhaps kindly led by hand
for a while, encouraged gently
though with persistence.
But when he is ready to go
he knows,
and oh, how he flies!

And so will I.

This poem was written when I finally
purchased a mobility scooter last week;
not a decision reached with ease.

As Always, Spring

I love spring,
how she yawns and stretches,
quiet confidence;
instinct melded with a trust
that says it’s okay to go.
She was almost fooled
a couple of times this year,
but not enough to daunt
or throw off course.

And now look at those shoots;
delicate still, a little pale, but
granite firm and ready.
They have work to do,
an audience to captivate,
starring roles to support.
And as always, will succeed;
why would this year be any different?