Category: napowrimo
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Day 5: NaPoWriMo 2021
The View I was in a black ooze mood the dayI painted that colour in this room.Last year’s peril turned the wallsa sooty colour of cognac and coffee.It casts a mood that obscuresviews of my neighbour’s rose garden. Never mind yellow rose innuendoes,everyone’s always home over there,and ignore the purple periwinklethat scampers wild like lost…
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Day 2: NaPoWriMo
The Radio Was Always Playing I recall the kitchen was always warm. The radio was always playing. Condensation on the windows. Net curtains. Yellowed. Frilly tie-backs. Ruffled aprons with long ties. Politics in the living room. Stinging scents — cigars, whiskey. Cheers, they’d say. The children, They were told to go play. So they did.
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Day 1: NaPoWriMo
PS: I Miss You I wrote about the sidewalk cafés, and faces squinting behind cameras, museums, the cognac, et cetera, how a foreign language can hijack ones thoughts, about the hand that I caught in my pocket, but I forgot to tell you that there’s a strange absence without your hand in mine.
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Day 4.1 NaPoWriMo
Pool Party Everyone with a throat is gulping drinks and doing all that tedious mingling. It’s easy for some. Another day of Eve with her pet snake. A man with Lennon glasses throws another log on the fire as a woman strips by the pool for a dip. Even the foulest water puts out a…
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Day 4: NaPoWriMo 2021
Catnap Party Its brain is in a clutter of party noise and bluster Catnip, milk and cream Spin yarns of yawning dreams
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Day 3.1: NaPoWriMo
As If To live under the same roof as an attack of the nerves is to take supper with superlatives. The company was dreadful — all that science cannot solve.
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Day 3: NaPoWriMo 2021
As If It’s … Renewal. That’s what energises me. Like spring strutting unopposed. Nothing timid about it. All high-wattage swagger. Put on your Ray-Bans. Take to the road, be a low-rider. There’s a whiff of accidental about life. An unintended glance…
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Day 2: NaPoWriMo 2021
I. The Church Bells Are Ringing A sound like angels exhaling. God’s finger, thimbled, sewing prayers into our thoughts. I must be his great agitation, always folding my heart, and squandering my days. My dad once punched a tree. That was after I told him to never hit Mum again. She cried like a siren.…
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Day 1.1 NaPoWriMo
What words need saying to the needle that your foot finds in a haystack. An American Sentence, 17 syllables.Miz Quickly’s Nov 1, image above Writers’ Digest Uny, PA Day 1 Correspondence.
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Day 1: NaPoWriMo 2021
I.An Invitation from the First Day of November I am November, the crossoverinto winter. The start of months that I will drag on slow as clay.Slow as a long curve. Slower than ditchwater with scumshivering on top. Winter, slow as lamented loss.Winter, when grief slows time. Slow, slow as damp plaster’s chill,or as vacant as…
It's Still Life 