Writing Forums

Writing Forums is a privately-owned, community managed writing environment. We provide an unlimited opportunity for writers and poets of all abilities, to share their work and communicate with other writers and creative artists. We offer an experience that is safe, welcoming and friendly, regardless of your level of participation, knowledge or skill. There are several opportunities for writers to exchange tips, engage in discussions about techniques, and grow in your craft. You can also participate in forum competitions that are exciting and helpful in building your skill level. There's so much more for you to explore!

Danny's NaPoWriMo Thread 2021 (1 Viewer)

dannyboy

Friends of WF
1:

For the Fool this day,
for the ankle-suspended upside-down dweller
the Trickster, the face-changer; this day
always carries me back to those idylls
when frost covered lawns, the quieter time
before screens and over-burdened thumbs ruled.

How many times was I woken and fell
for the snare, the burning shed,
the flooding washing-machine, the get dressed
at 5 am thinking its school time only to find
the Fool is me?

My children never fell as hard
no matter how detailed the plan
the rush in door-slam, the hurried whisper
until the cry ‘April Fool!’

Now my mother no longer plans
lost as she is, the woven years
the most terrible trickster of all.

The children have left home
and I stand this morning with a coffee and an ache –


I miss the cry, 'April Fool!'
 
Last edited:

Gumby

Staff member
Co-Owner
Now my mother no longer plans
lost as she is the woven years
the most terrible trickster of all.

The children have left home
and I stand this morning with a coffee and an ache –

Lost my mum last napowrimo, dementia was terrible to witness and the whole family takes a terrible hit. And that ending, yes, you nailed how I so often feel, too. Lovely work, Danny. You really started off with a winner.
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#2
A good day:

This is the day we celebrate
the killing of a god
a string him up, take him down
place him in the ground day.
The fulfillment of the Abraham
dragging his son to the mountaintop
the perfect day to reason
the best way to accomplish good
is through ultimate sacrifice –
it’s that kind of day,
a day that leads to wars
to enduring horrible anguish
for the sake of the soul day.

The logic defies me, it reasons
good claims victory through the offering,
says nothing of the idea that good
can be found through absence
through actions without malice.

This day holds up
the father offering up the son
as the path to redemption.

It makes me think of Battles of Bull Run
of Waterloo and the Battle of Thermopylae
of the massacred bodies
slung into the Normandy landing
and the terrors delivered to boys
in the heat of the Viet jungle.

It is a story told over and over again
of sons sold to the ferryman
for the sins of their fathers, a story
that reminds us we still sacrifice sons
in the name of a good victory.
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#3

This is the nothing day
the between day
that straddles the sacrifice and the glory
an empty day
a dangerous day.

It can set the pattern for a life
nothing but the pause
between the pain
and the celebration

It is a dangerous precedent
placing eggs in that basket
thinking only of the days of pain
or the days of joy.

Most days are between days
and should be treasured as such
mild, calm ordinary days
that deliver the gift of a cycle
rolling on and on and on.
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
The first and third poems are poignant, a celebration of life and loss and ordinary things... love your POV and your gentle style...
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#4

Rolling back the rock:

The thing I am struck by
is that round rock rolled back
the tomb empty, the underworld fled
the thought that death
could be defeated so easily
in my head the story became tied to Lazarus
that other moment of rising.

I suppose it lingers there still
as my hair greys
my body wears thinner
calm settles easily now
and the impulses are not so large
as once they might have been –
I touch rocks more often.

In the underworld
that lives within the mind
that mirror place of the underground
a shadow thought that nestled
awakens this day every year
could I, too, roll back the rock
stride out and start anew?
 
Last edited:

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
I love the religious undertone to the gorgeous poem... I think in life, one will always have to roll back the stones to redefine and find hope and renewal....
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#5

The guitar holds pride of place somewhere now
far from your fingers and grace
your voice, that voice, that masterful cell-infused space
where sound captured the depths
the way the desert captures absence
silent now, no more words
to roll across the world like tumble weeds.

To many their best memory
isn’t even of you but a man
photographed as a babe
floating in a pool, arms and legs
and a face
that captured the drowning and rising
we all felt.

This day, the 5th
the day the shotgun was loaded
the barrel placed to your head
the silence that followed
the roar
the sadness that remains afterwards –
never mind, it is just the way it is.
 

alana

Senior Member
This is such a great characterisation of the feeling of April 1st now vs when we were young... it does seem different now somehow, and not just for being older. The nostalgia is strong! I love it.

1:

For the Fool this day,
for the ankle-suspended upside-down dweller
the Trickster, the face-changer; this day
always carries me back to those idylls
when frost covered lawns, the quieter time
before screens and over-burdened thumbs ruled.

How many times was I woken and fell
for the snare, the burning shed,
the flooding washing-machine, the get dressed
at 5 am thinking its school time only to find
the Fool is me?

My children never fell as hard
no matter how detailed the plan
the rush in door-slam, the hurried whisper
until the cry ‘April Fool!’

Now my mother no longer plans
lost as she is, the woven years
the most terrible trickster of all.

The children have left home
and I stand this morning with a coffee and an ache –


I miss the cry, 'April Fool!'
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#6

Sonnet for Laura:

I saw you today, Laura, for the first time. You sat
in the aisle opposite and it seemed to my ears
that the words of the priest were as dust
blowing across the desert. My eyes feasted
on the oasis and then and there, Laura, I chose
to leave the vocation and become instead a traveller
of mountains so that I might look at distance
and catch glimpses again of the world’s wonders.

Laura, we shall never speak, not once, our hands
will not touch, your eyes will fail to recognise mine. You
will spend your years as you choose while I shall wander
and gasp and recall this world is full of such marvels
that one life, this life, this flesh, bone and blood
existence, was, is, and will always be, enough.
 
Last edited:

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
awwww... I was hoping for a happy ending, I am a sucker for "happily ever after"... This is a poignant poem, but there is a sense of looking forward, not back, no regrets... lovely...
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#7

Poor Black Bess:

As a child I remember having a viewer
could see you and your horse in bright colours
shining upon my bedroom wall
the story told of you on that famous ride
the heroism of Black Bess before her fall
the heart giving way under the weight.

At night in my bed
watching those final two slides
the horse fallen, the man standing
hat in hand, head bowed, tears
slipped free, sadness and something more –
we all seek a connection.
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top