Roots of the Earth Napowrimo day 5

Roots of the earth.

Long grown, and nutritious
You stab down
Deep into the ground.
Anchoring us to our land.
Nailing us to our soil.
A sweet, starch store
Of Winter food and memory.
Of Orange Spears
Of Purple Haze and Eskimo
White woody foundations of the past
Parsley Hamburg
And Javelin.
Red and white rivets of history.
Sparkler.
White Icicle
Sakurajima Mammoth.
You helped us build a future
Helped us grow
Nurtured our bodies, and souls
Yet we rejected you.
Aimed for visual perfection
Of bigger, better, more.
Sanitised our world
Our future
By changing the past
Forgetting our history
Losing our memory.
Losing the Roots of the World.
Let the seeds of your children be more forgiving of our foolishness.
Let them feed and grow our memory once more!

5th April 2016
Carrots, parsnips and radish!

The cruelest month. Napowrimo Day 4

The Cruelest Month.

Is February.
Short of daylight
With long promises in
warmish glints of Spring.
Blunted by Winter.
Glimmer of dawns
yet darker nights than before.
Do not bloom to soon into sharp, frost-fed death.
Wait for this longest of short months to end.

4th April 2016

Fan letter (to all poets) Napowrimo 2016 day 3

Fan letter (to all poets)

You have hammered me flat.
Squashed me.
Splattered me against the windscreen.
You have risen up and drown me in a stormy sea of forgotten emotion.
Dragged me under.
Buried me alive.
Opened up my soul, like a can of cheap ale
And drank me dry.
Long and deep.
You have cut me up, before inspiring me with hope only to desert me.
Empty and alone.
Filled up my belly with rich, tasty food
And acidic, angry fire.
Melted my brain with every refrain
And stanza, blended with satire.
Stolen my mouth, my eyes, my tongue.
Frozen my mind,
And twisted my fingers.
I hate you.
I love you.
I want to be you.
Thank you!

3rd April 2016

Families

Families
Are different for everyone.
Many different variations exist.
Interesting collections of people who
Love you, care for you yet sometimes exasperate you.
I love mine to bits,
Eclectic bunch of delightful folks they be.
Sometimes they don't always work.
                                        Like this poem!

Five Lunes to...

Five lunes to
moon slivered morning,
smiles on hills.

Blackbird sits.
Grinding wheels against rails
echos still.

Cup of joe.
Endless stream of souls
off to work.

Weary eyes.
lolly-lagging feet
take me home.

The joy of
mud, is dogs, is best
to roll in.

Napowrimo attempt #?

Well it is that time of year again, where I spend a few moments every day, trying to craft an instant poem from a prompt from /http://www.napowrimo.net/ and attempt to turn this poetry blog back into a poetry blog, instead of a rant and rave against work blog.

But first, just a quick aside into my recent life.

This poeming thing is getting bigger. Far bigger than I imagined it ever could and I'm getting scared. In a good way! But proper bricking it.

I have a proper little set to organise (organise? can you see how much I am laughing inside as I write the word "organise!") as in June I will be on the stage. Yes me. On the stage, reading stuff.
Cool isn't it.
https://www.yorktheatreroyal.co.uk/event/words_whippets.php#.Vv1YP77bLMw This is the link.
I have to thank henry raby for giving me this chance and seeing something in me that I wasn't aware was there.

And thank you to Stu Frestone and the rest of the say owt slam ers for being so supportive in all my wordy attempts.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

And now back to the purpose this blog was gifted to me. (Although no one can deny it has done its job, if not been filled from edge to edge with nothing but poems!)

And, maybe this year, I'll manage a whole 30 days...

We shall see.

Roll on 1st April.

Broken promises I never made.

One month down.
I am Knackered, and yes, I think it does deserve a capital K!
Last night, despite my efforts, Lady Sleep sank her claws into my soul and dragged me under. (I was in bed by 8pm. Could not keep my eyes open.)
Who cares?
Well I had intended to go to an amazing open mic poetry night at the Black Swan  http://www.blackswanyork.com/  but I didn't.  But that is not my first broken promise.
Work got me!
Drained and disconbobbulated.
Despondent and depleted.

And not just me, everyone for at least two weeks wondered what on earth was happening. All staff became a cost, not a person. Just a number on a sheet, in a column somewhere, that some bean counter was invited to manipulate in order to save money for shareholders dividends. Someone who had no idea how many humans it took to make and serve a cup of coffee, or prepare a sandwich, or order produce and take care of it. For him (or her I add because there is no difference in stupidity or lack on common sense in the sexes) it was just a matter of money = time . Less time = less cost to the business.
Well I say to that person who manipulated a computer model for a fairies promise of profit, less cost = closed, and reduced opening hours = less money = more costs = no staff!
Thank you for stressing us all out!

Thank you for letting me get that off my chest!
(Yes there is a poem in there somewhere but I am back to waiting when I get home, just waiting unable to get going with anything fun, or creative that isn't work!)
And that is what I hate.
I am not only full of nothing from work, I am full of worry for my friends whom I work with, and I feel their stress too. This is just the way I am built. I don't always pick up on it, but when I do, it plays on my mind and I just want to cry and eat chocolate (or drink beer!)

OK no more. It's over. It's done. A more practical soul has decided that although staff are a cost, they are a necessary one and needed to keep making the money they so desire.

Stop it Joanne. Now!

Positive?
Yes, there are positives.
I have been writing, posting more photos on facebook with half poems or prose. And I am trying to keep up with just one story. Thinking, long-hand, typing and some editing all on one tale. It isn't the one I decided on, but I shall keep going, and remembering. There is a lot going on in my head which is not down on paper yet. But it will be!

February is a busy month, And not just because it is the shortest.
Open mics, poetry slams, creative witting, and Chinese new year, along this pancake day! (Why don't I eat pancakes more than once a year?)
That is a lot to look forward to!

And getting this grumble written down is good. I might not be blogging the most creative things at the moment, but its a record, and who knows what weird characterisation my brain will invent when I reread it in a different frame of mind!

Thank you for putting up with my shit!
xxx