A bit of preamble here: This was my entry for the National Poetry Competition 2009. Obviously I didn’t win anything, otherwise I wouldn’t be allowed to share this here. But the competitions loss is someone’s gain…or something else equally consolatory :) Anyway, here it is – I hope you find it enjoyable in some way. I quite enjoyed writing somethign a little bit different.
—
It was gloaming when I woke.
Scattered about the lawn were the beaten night-owls,
trading places with the prey which, triumphant,
hid among the garage creeper.
Dense leaves betrayed the presence of the mice,
but only by its stillness in two-tone light.
The rodents rejoiced,
and it was the falling feathers I spied next.
Some caught among clothes I’d neglected to collect,
and the washing line was taut,
where before I’d left it limp.
The clever imps.
Jumper-wrestling was suggested
by quill-pierced wool.
And so the plot unfolded.
Bleary-eyed, I viewed
splinters of the owly coats
Still falling through garden air.
Yet must I despair,
or just think these events slightly curious?
Certainly, without backing,
such visions might be spurious.
And as my ears found no inkling of sound through glass panes,
What I was seeing had no support.
…In spite of the washing line
which I hadn’t left taut.
Unsure of action
I lay back down, thinking of owls.
Tripped and fallen in tawny gowns.
But proof arrived, of rodents who contrived,
when the day came.
As through those self-same windows I glanced,
and noticed, hidden among the plants,
Not the now disappeared night-owls.
But the half-camouflaged foxes, come for them.
Pierced upon spiked trowels.
That Man – A Poem
They asked me not to break things, first.
After I deconstructed their careful blockade.
They asked me not to eat them.
And I wouldn’t.
They asked me to have mercy.
Not that they needed to.
Whispers of ‘that man’.
Rang in negative ears.
Him, the naysayer.
Him, the irrepressible.
They pointed at me.
They asked me not to change them.
But I had at least to even the odds.
Break the bonds and
untie Potential.
Invite Belief
back to the fold.
Have a word with Power
just make sure he was on both sides.
When I, Inspiration, struck.
Boredom cowered.
Distraction frowned.
And the playthings of
Idle were sent to their corner.
‘There’s a time and a place’
I said. And, ‘you’ve had your fair share’.
And they asked Inspiration to be gentle.
And he just winked a smile.