Wednesday 30 April 2014

Spring Adventures



I wish I could
Pinpoint
The day
Spring came
But the Scottish Spring
Is capricious like that.
I don't know
If it came
In the sudden
Bloom of
Yellow flowers
Or the glory
Of pink trees.
Or the sharp rain
That tasted better
When shared
On your
Laughing lips.
Spring has always
Been rather dangerous.
It calls for
Backpacks,
Cheeky grins
And adventures.
Spring springs
Deeply into
Discontent
And I am
Always
Forever
Running away
Towards
The sweet, sibilant
Sounds of spring.
This spring
I didn't run.
I stayed.
Oh boy, I stayed.
And let adventure
Kiss me
On my doorstep.
Spring laughed
At my springing heart
And bluffed
Sunshine my way.
I didn't run.
I stayed.
This spring, I stayed
And let
Spring Adventures come my way.

Thursday 24 April 2014

Cliche



Cliches are so,
For a reason .
And really, babe
When the light
Catches you right
You shine
Are sublime
Like a,
What shall we call it?
Like a,
Supernova.
So that's a cliche
Yes or no?
Castle tops
Are cliches too.
Let's do it anyway
Or maybe
Because of it
Rain is cliche
But this was
A mere drizzle.
Tree list
A bit much
To the left
Lean up
Against them,
Just so.
That's cliche
Too.
But it's
The kind
I'm awfully
Partial too.
Cliches come
Riding down
In hordes
And one cliche
That's all about
How we crash and burn.
Let's shred that one
To tiny bits
And kiss
On the remains.
In a very
Cliched
Sort of a way.

Wednesday 23 April 2014

"Seize!"


You've got me spoiled,
Far too much.
Days and days
Of waking
Surfacing,
Grumbling,
All of that,
To your
Pretty, pretty face
And your
Dancing, dancing eyes.
Tis getting a bit difficult
To kick Morpheus away
Without you
As my personal alarm clock.
Everyone else gets seduced
Into my bed
And the land of sleep
Or just ups and leaves.
You are the singular
Singularity
That stayed,
Reclining
On my couch.
Coaxing,
Threatening,
Laughing,
Me
Out of bed.
You are sitting,
Creeping subtly
Into my brain,
Telling me,
I must
'Seize the day'
Flinging open
Shutters,
Proclaiming
The weather today.
You are all about the
'Seizing'
I am all about the
'Maybes'
And between the tewo
I arise
Compromise
All because
Of your smiling/scowling face
And try
To seize the day. 

Tuesday 8 April 2014

Moon over Scotland(Sentinel Remix)- NaPoWriMo8

It's gotten late,
Very late.
The bus emptied
The further North
We got.
We left some idiots
In Newcastle
(It was pretty
In itself, though).
We left the idiots
And grabbed
The front seats.
So now,
It's gotten late,
Very late.
You are sleeping
Curled in on yourself,
Across the aisle
From me.
She is asleep
Curled in, on my shoulder.
We crossed into
The Scottish border
A moment past
The board said,
Welcome to Scotland
And it felt like,
Homecoming.
Suddenly,
The grit of the night
Has been rubbed off
By the light
Of the moon over Scotland.
This a late night
Sentinel watch. 
And for once
My heart is
Tender enough
To want to protect
You both
From everything.
This is a Sentinel watch
Just me
And the moon over Scotland.
That is company enough
Sitting at the front of this bus
Tonight,
My heart is
Tender enough
To promise
Anything, Everything
On this Sentinel watch.
Just two sleepers
A watcher
And the moon over Scotland. 

Monday 7 April 2014

Dreaming Spires-NaPoWriMo7

Oxford, at a glance.


I have dreamed
About the city
Of dreaming spires
For a terribly
Long time indeed
So the actuality
Of it was,
Underwhelming.
The thing is,
This city is
All about subtleties
And terribly reserved.
So this will not be
A flaming love affair.
This needs to be
A learned love,
A slow love,
A thoughtful love.
I don't know
What the spires
Dream about
But they have seen
The foolish youth
Of so many
Who went on
To mean so much
To an anonymous little girl,
Somewhere,
Sometime.
I hope they get
To see mine.
So, I dream incessantly
Of this reserved city
Of dreaming spires. 

Sunday 6 April 2014

Sheesha-NaPoWriMo6



We call it
Hookah
Back home
(Wherever that is).
Sometimes I think
My wild, wild youth
Is tied up in stories
Of the hookah
In my room.
Smoke makes
My eyes sore
And my head hurt
But Sheesha smoke
Curls seductively
Down my veins
With a sweetish tang.
And the pain
Is worth
The payoff.
Sheesha thrums
In gentle hums
Around my head.
And watercolours
The world
In shades
Of BLOODY AWESOME.
I swear I could fly!
Let's get chinese!
Hey Emma, you ok?!
Woah, standing sober
Is challenging!
Yes, I think Chinese
Sounds great about now.
Yes, Sheesha
Recalls my
Wild youth
If youth
Is walking down London streeets
Wanting to fly.
It is.

Saturday 5 April 2014

Taste - NaPoWriMo5

Camden Market is torture on an empty stomach and empties pockets.



I'm starving
To taste
This city.
You can always
Smell a city
Before
You see it.
And this one
Smells divine.
Today I saw how
Sushi was made
With deceptive ease.
This is a sizzle
In the air
That whispers 'Kebabs'
Vision of succulent
Juicy heaven.
Nurdan says
I ought to try
Jerk chicken
But my attention
Is caught
By a fry up
Of noodles
And schezuan chicken.
I think there
Are burgers
Sitting fat
And content
At the corner
Of my eye.
Chips too,
But those
Are better
Up North.
This city
Is shameless
In its excesses-
I approve.
I'm starving
To taste
Each one.

Friday 4 April 2014

Dreary- NaPoWriMo-4

Written for the longest bus ride ever taken.



This is how it goes-
In a bus,
Half asleeep
An age on the road
An age to go.
This is how it goes-
Darkish skies,
Layered clouds,
Dreary towns
Leading to
Nothing, nothing.
This is how it goes-
A distant land
A dreary day
Why is dreariness
So damn universal?
This is how it goes-
Aching legs
Soreish eyes
Reluctant smiles
London town
Is far, far, far.
This is how it goes-
Pass the time,
Pass the smile,
Unconsciously, 
This is always how it goes.

Thursday 3 April 2014

Inkpot Monkey - NaPoWriMo 3


I had a rather unfortunate incident at Starbucks. :D



Legends tell
The dread tale
Of a monkey
Living inside
Inkpots.
They rather fancy
The taste of ink.
I don't own
An inkpot
(Why ever not?)
But I suspect
The Inkpot Monkey
Of sucking dry
My pens.
Ink on my skin
Ink on my face
Ink of my scarf
Ink on the poor man
Who sat beside me
In Starbucks today
A pen run dry
And no paper to blame.
Nothing to write,
Nothing to say,
Just a pen run dry
And no paper to blame.
Only an inkpot monkey
Up to his antics again.

Wednesday 2 April 2014

Green - NaPoWriMo 2

Directly inspired by my eternal muse- she's been slacking off on the job lately.


I never think about
The color Green
All that much.
I'm more of a
Blues, Blacks, Reds
Kind of person.
But often,
Unobtrusive as you please,
Green sinuously
Seeps,
Bleeds,
Into my vision;
And I remember
Verdant trees
Lush with leaves,
Green.
Nurdan's scarf,
A deepish warmth
Home and love and,
Green.
Comfort and coffee
Stories and Starbucks,
Green.
Rosie's trousers,
Unsual, bright, calming,
Green.
For secrets
And whispers
Spring and Summer,
Green.
Connemara Hills,
Scottish Lochs,
Green.
Your eyes,
Brightly, acidly, joyfully,
Green. 

Tuesday 1 April 2014

Country Roads - NaPoWriMo 1


We are hurtling
In a tin can
A tin, tin can
Down a country road.
It's a dark, dark road
And if you slid
Your eyes half mast
We could pretend
We were flying.
If we hit something
On these country roads
It wouldn't end well
And death lingers on corners
That darkly press closer.
But we are alive,
More than ever.
Country roads
Are winding
Dark distances
To infinity.
Your loosely clasped hand
In mine,
I'm flying
On these
Country roads.
I'm praying
For never ending 
Country roads
And I'm flying
With your hand in mine.