A question mark in the shape of a stain #nationalpoetrymonth

Image: Some mind chatter scribbles from my journal 01042016

 

April is ‘Poetry Month’ in American and Canada and quite a few people jump on the bandwagon here in Oz too. So I figured why not?

Returning to some work, creating some new things. Will share a poem a day here during April. This one started life in April 2013, I’ve used some of the ideas but given it a new skeleton and rewritten almost entirely this evening while sitting on the couch watching ‘Brother Bear’ with my smallest human.

A question mark in the shape of a stain

Shouldn’t be a question. Couldn’t be an answer.

A statement pile. To shift through. Lift through.

You are set adrift,

too.

Empty ache. Hungry sorrow. Eyelid twitch

of a sleeping dog.

Who are we kidding?

Anyway.

He is red and smells like wet soap and socks

I forgot what you asked,

I was trying to answer.

Trying

to.

Sheets of gyprock. Unfilled walls. Unspilled halls.

His silence –

Soaks into the carpet.

With me.

With my sinking knees.

Chandeliers on the end of my ears.

His pipe on the end of my nose.

Where does lost love go?

I am left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Fill Me – Month of Poetry #MoP15

I’m starting off 2015 with lots of small, achievable and fun creative outlets for me – one of which is participating in Month Of Poetry this January.

 

“Otherwise know as #MoP, Month of Poetry is a personal challenge to write one poem ever day for the month of January. Co-ordinated by Australian poet and children’s author, Kathryn Apel, #MoP is for enjoyment and inspiration – for everyone. It’s not a competition, and you won’t be judged. There is no disgrace in writing less than thirty poems, so make the challenge work for you – and celebrate every poem you write!”*

 

As part of Month Of Poetry, Kathryn also offers a prompt challenge each Saturday. Today’s challenge was to write a colour poem (a poem inspired by a colour).

So this is my little effort:

 

Fill Me.

Painted walls slip as music spread between clean sheets and tasting plates. I am echoed. I am filled. I am joy. Grown into tall leaves and large faces. My daughter’s laughter in honey jars. Flakes of salmon painted in coriander and love. I am yellow. I am home. I am filled.

 

*from the Month of Poetry ‘About’ section, head here to find out more.