Age Old Tradition – A Poem By Carol J Forrester #DVersePoets

I should have taken that course,
the one with the guy
who builds drystone walls up north
for the farmers who have to maintain
things the way they’ve always been.
A bit like how I’m still trying
to keep this how it was
when you laid each slab in place
one, against the other,
so clever with your fingers,
finding the flattest stones,
the edges most like jigsaw pieces,
and stacking the pile
till it looked like a skyscraper
even if it always was only a folly.

I’ve just taken part in Caroline Bird’s Brave Writing poetry workshop, so I was a little worried I’d be all poet’d out by the time I got round to the DVerse prompt for this evening. It was an amazing workshop and I feel like a got so much out of it, much as I did with the workshop I did last year run by Mark Pajak. Workshops are a great way to improve your poems and your craft.

Also, my poem When Medusa Goes Shopping went live on The Daily Drunk today! I think this is the first poem I’ve had published in 2020. After writing my collection I felt a bit like I’d run out of poems, and it’s only been in the last couple of months that I really started got the fire back in my belly when it comes to writing.

Since tonight’s prompt is Follies, I’d like to mention Hawkstone Park Follies. It’s a lovely site in Shropshire, built originally by the Hill family, and a local tourist attraction. The family built it as a pleasure garden (eighteenth century gardens designed for noble families to go walking in) and as a result the Follies boast fantastic sandstone caves, a hermitage, and the obelisk which is not actually an obelisk but a monument to the supposed first protestant mayor of London. (Supposed, the claim is a little contested). For those who enjoy walking it’s a fantastic place to visit (though only open between 1st July and 1st November). I’d highly recommend not doing it dressed as the Easter Bunny however. There are some steep bits.

Down To The Bones Of It #DVersePoets #Quadrille

Spent an evening smashing holes

in the walls you’d fixed,

and smoothed with filler.

Waited for the dawn to discover

the bones of this house

now naked of plaster.

Wondered if I looked as broken,

beneath.

If I would catch light

just as quickly.

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Back To The Start… #DVersePoets

So it started with a broken laptop. Or maybe it started with your brother, pointing you towards a target, that wasn’t me by any means, but I was somewhere on the other side of it.

Or maybe it started with an offer made to my Grandfather, which he passed onto my mother and her new husband. Or maybe it started with a newspaper ad, Welshmen need not apply. Or maybe it started in Ireland, with a broken engagement and a ferry ticket.

Or maybe we are so far from the start there is no point loosing myself on the path back to it.

The sun rose again,

and the weather changed its tune

but that’s not the start.

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Waiting In The Wings #DVersePoetics

I braided a basket of my fingers,

in case I was required to catch

you

if you fell from any sort of height

or perhaps needed a boost

to reach a shelf

or a step

on a ladder I could hold

once I’d unwoven these hands

to grip the rungs better

if you eventually decide

to climb.

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Image by Pexels from Pixabay

 

 

Some Days – Modern #LovePoem No. 3… I Think

Some days I don’t need a husband

I need scaffolding.

So I can tend to the broken,

the busted windows

the cracking paint,

the guttering that doesn’t drain

when the rain comes in

and all the sediment

circling the drain

but never quite clearing.

Some days I need that from you,

and nothing more.