Showing posts with label writersgroup. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writersgroup. Show all posts

Saturday, January 20

Algorithms?....A Poem for Thursday

I googled the word.....algorithms...I was fed up with being told by the younger set, that my life is now set because of all my choices on the internet going into some vast drum.....stirred around and then emerging on the iPad screen as something that I have always wanted.

Well guess what ...old Euclid knew about algorithms... and I don't think he had bought his iPad by the time he wrote it down.

Anyway...Algorithms...was my prompt today for The Bold Street Writers in Warrington. And the results were as usual amazing. From a carefully worded account of the inner doings of Amazon ...if you want to sell your detective novel....to a run down of the latest news and gardening programmes. Don't ask...just believe they were great.

Mine?....well all about why I now have two kittens living with me and the potter. It's a bit long but then it takes a while often for an algorithm to work out.

Algorithms
The sun shining
August in the garden
Dirty dishes in the sink
Soapy water on my hands
[ jobs to do, places to go]
Just August in the garden.

Dirty dishes in soapy water
Gazing mindlessly  window watching
Garden birds
Greedy squirrels
[ jobs to do. places to be]
Dirty dishes now piled up.

Gazing mindlessly at garden birds
A sudden movement
By the hedge   prickly hedge
[ jobs to do  places to be]
My eyes deceive me I'm 
Just gazing mindlessly at kittens.

A sudden movement 
Makes it real
In the garden by the hedge
An ice grey mother cat
With two small kittens
[I've jobs to do and places to be]
She dashes from our sudden movement.

So it's true and we're astonished 
One small tabby kitten lingers
Snapped a shot on
A mobile phone
Posted up on face books news
[what about my jobs and places?]
Makes it real.

One small tabby eyes wide open
Frozen in a garden snap
Put up on face book  local news
[forget the jobs forget the places]
Then a clamour
From the punters
Out on face book
"We can catch the one small tabby".

Frozen on the mobile phone
A tabby's image   tiny image
Next a plethora of messages
Demanding that they be consulted
"We will come and take the cats"
[thinking of my jobs and places]
Close down local face book page
Delete it from the mobile phone.

Tabby's image small and frightened
Enter Kat from  animal  rescue
Brings her cages
Traps the kittens two, now three
And the pretty mother cat
Takes them off to safer havens
[I'll get on with jobs and places]
Tabby's  image lingers on.

Message sent to animal rescue
Kept the contact
How's the family?
But I really want a greyhound
Want a whippet, or just a mongrel
[do the daily jobs as needed] still
Can't ignore the tabby's image
Message Kat from local rescue.

Glad now that I kept the contact
Can I have the kittens back?
[did some jobs of sorting rooms
Did some buying for the two]
September comes October goes
November's bleak, and Christmas shines.
Cats are coming early January
Glad I kept the rescue contact.

Now we have the kittens back
I forget about the whippet
Pretty female, dancing tomcat
And the potter is besotted
Who'd have thought it
He's the daddy, playmate, teaser
[I get on with jobs, go places]
Happy that the cats are back.








Monday, December 11

A Poem for Thursday...Driving to Donegal




Driving to Donegal


River Bann in flood  cattle on the bank
cloud and blue patches in an Ulster sky
red barn roofs curved and corrugated
Enniskillen          Omagh              Derry
on the green road sign.   Driving west.
Telegraph wires strung out on drumlins
measuring the miles and the messages
ancient gaelic town lands   anglish form
politics noted in the colour of a flag
politics  black    green     blue     red
and white  with a bloody hand
woven together like fine Sunday linen.
Fecundity found in every hedge and tree
mother Ireland at her most fertile her
green hills swelling as ample breasts
each rowan     ash     willow and oak
hazelnuts beechnuts and acorns with
meadowsweet  knapweed  fireweed and
net fences twined about with red rosebuds
over   under   around the edges of gardens.



Geraldine Snape


Thursday, November 9

a Poem for Thursday


The prompt today was from the delectable Eileen...do you remember when she didn't turn up at the Writers Thursday Morning and so we wrote as the prompt...
"Eileen is missing".
She was there this morning...and gave us a very apt one for the time of year.
"Things that go bump in the night".
Some scary ghoulish stories emerged.....some great poetry..and another chapter in the latest detective story by Liz Hedgecock.
Just back from the academic and intellectual air of the Poetry Festival Aldeburgh....
What did I write...I wrote a bit of doggerel.....

Thing that go Bump in the Night
Shut the door turn out the light
Snuggle down   say night night
Head on the pillow eyes shut tight
End of another day.

Sleep doesn't come      brain's in gear
Too many thoughts in your head I fear
Mindlessness needed    a glass of beer?
Legs numb where you lie.

Lie on your left   lie on your right
Lie on your back     see if it might
Help you to drift off into the night
Dream a bit on the way.

Kick off the bedclothes  far too warm
Stretch your neck   stretch your arm
Count to eight       could eat a barm!
Maybe you ought to pray

Him beside you roars like a bull
Give him a shove     merciful lull
Silence again      brain again full
Feel like you're going to cry.

All of a sudden        a noise on the stairs
Wide awake now        wonder who dares
Challenge the noise maker both of you glare
Hoping it just goes away.

Tiptoeing over     turning the knob
Opening the door   viewing the job
Sigh with relief     it's only the dog
with his new slimey toy on the stair.

Back into bed                shivery cold
Cuddle the pillow       hottie now cold
Sheets in a tangle  blankets now cold
May as well brew up some Char.