Monday, 13 October 2014

October Poetry Writing Month - Day 10

Morning Train

Sleepy eyes and tired bones 
Slightly damp from the morning rain
Which caught me before the bus could whisk me away
On this, my latest adventure

I sit.
Huddled beneath layers of wool, and fleece, and cotton
As I wait for the train to move off from the station
I sip at steaming morning coffee
A small luxury served in a paper cup
My morning medicine, to wake me up

The train shudders and shakes
No new speedy engine this one
More like a primeval beast
Lumbering through the countryside
But eventually we reach full speed
The jolts become a gentler hypnotic drum

I feel the steady hum of the train beneath me
As scenery flashes by my window
The Sun is coming up
Turning a dark sky to azure blue
The golden orb of our fiery star peeks tentatively through the clouds
As we head towards the city

The light is reflected off of the tall glass buildings
And the city seems ablaze with golden reflections
Not long now to my destination
I relax into my seat
Enjoying these minutes of quiet
Before the bustle of city life surrounds me

October Poetry Writing Month - Day 9

First day at school

I wake up already nervous
Chew toast
Drink tea
Auto pilot pushing me forward
Smart new clothes
New bag
New pens
Tidy! From my neat hair to my shiny shoes.
The bus takes forever,
But I don't mind if we never get there
Suddenly, the bus stops
The driver looks at me with pity
As I make my way to the front and alight
Into the foggy grey of this September morning.
Dead leaves, frosty under foot,
Crunch and crumble
In to the gate I go
There are groups of kids huddled together
In packs, like wolves,
They stop talking when they see me.
Eyes stare from the windows
And through the tennis court fences
Inside I scuttle
One quick cup of tea to warm me
And it is time...
The bell tolls and I open the classroom door...
"Good morning  class 3, I am your new teacher, Mrs B"

Saturday, 11 October 2014

October Poetry Writing Month - Day 8

Day 8

Oh the sweet sweet joy of a new book!
The glossy cover,
The perfect spine,
This is a moment to be savoured.
This new tome,
Freshly plucked from shelf in shop,
Or torn from postal packaging at home.
This small book is cause for celebration,
A sort of romanticised ceremony
Of ethereal jazz and distant chatter,
Any coffee shop will do,
It really doesn't matter,
But the comfort and bliss
Of sitting and sipping,
And then the first turn of the first page
Careful not to break the binding!
Slowly, into the narrative you find yourself sliding
Minutes turn into hours...
Pages turn into chapters...
You are lost in this new world
As your cup grows cold
And the light diminishes
"Just one more page" you think, 
"I need to finish this".
And when the day is almost done
You reluctantly head for home
And when at home, It's up to bed,
To read some more, until sleep claims your head.

(C) Arietta Bryant
October 2014

October Poetry Writing Month - Day 7

Day 7

Free Bird

I see my life flashing by
But always forward must I fly
I am a bird upon the breeze
The path of least resistance please!
To be a bird would be quite a thrill
With feathered wing and chirping bill
I take flight now to ride the winds
But now I know on each dice spin
I can be the master of my life
I am more than mum and wife
I am the wise owl of the night
I can choose which way I fly

Tuesday, 7 October 2014

October Poetry Writing Month - Day 6

"Write!" she said...

"Write the words and they will heal you",
"Tell your story" she says, "And they will hear you".
"Go to the dark place and I'll be your light".
"I will be there for you in sorrow filled nights"

But what if the door to that place can't be closed
What If I'm lost there with memories of old
I don't want to open the door in the dark
To remember the days of a horror that's passed

I just want to be light and joy filled and happy
There are things best left hidden and wrapped up in plastic
I don't want to go to the dark place I scream
Typing so hard that my fingers might bleed

If I just keep typing and think cheerful thoughts
She won't make me go there and open that door
But for all my protesting I feel I am moving
Getting a bit closer, but unsure what I am doing

There is a door up ahead it's bolted and locked
It's covered in cobwebs and rusted up shut
But just underneath it I think I see light
Perhaps I might open it up... tonight  

October Poetry Writing Month - Day 5

Behind the Curtain

Standing in the dark behind the curtain
I wait...
Feeling the energy rising
I breathe...
Adrenalin coursing
I close my eyes...
Heart pounding In my chest
I am ready...
But in the back of my head, that nagging doubt
Why do I do this to myself?
For all that I fear it,
In these moments of quiet panic, before the lights come up
I live for the rush, the thrill
To live my art
In body, soul and heart 

Sunday, 5 October 2014

October Poetry Writing Month - Day 4

Lonely in the crowd

Each day the journey is the same
Travelling with strangers with no names
Heads bent low they read their phones
Each in a bubble all alone
We don't speak or chat to others
Head phones in signals "please don't bother"
We are a nation of social networkers
Each in trapped a spidery web of isolating connections
Alone in the hustle and bustle of the world
Crowded streets where no one sees anyone

Friday, 3 October 2014

October Poetry Writing Month - Day 3

3rd October

Dancing with Words

When I write poetry
I like to watch the words as they fall onto the page
They seem to dance like stardust,
Slowly they settle into their right place
They squeeze themselves into pentameter and stanza
Into sentence and into rhyme
They yearn for me to use them
Each and every one
Golden nuggets brought forth
From beneath chewed pencils and smudgy pens
They leap and jump at my command
(And sometimes of their own free will)
 We - The Words and I -
Carve out our dance floor together.

Arietta Bryant (c) 03/10/14

Wednesday, 1 October 2014

October Poetry Writing Month - Day 2

2nd October - In the UK today is National Poetry Day and the theme is "Remember"


Waking from dream sleep
Fractured memories I keep
They flit and fly, like darting bugs
Glowing dots in darkening fog
A metronomic tap, tap, tap
The nagging sense of almost knowing
Almost remembering
Almost forgetting
I blink and clear the sleepy haze
And with each blink so die the waves
Of hidden images and scenes
The things I see within my dreams

(C) Arietta Bryant