Stuck for inspiration, I went to MoreWriting, to the Poetry group to see what prompts had been posted. Instead, I found this one, written by yours truly on a day when I had obviously slept badly. It was penned in 15 minutes for the flash, but I have spent much longer on it today, polishing it some more.

The murky backwaters

Dark thoughts meander through
The backwaters of my brain
As murderous plans are hatched
In blind alleys of disdain

Sharp splinters log-jam me
Pins prick at my tender skin
Another wound gapes wide
And I disappear within

I wait for the rainfall 
That will flush away this pain
Polish my murky soul
So I can start over again

On Thursday night, I sat in a circle. Those of you who understand will know what I mean; those that don't needn't worry about whatever contortions it involves. We had a successful evening and I came away with renewed energy.

The soul key

When I close my eyes and count to ten
I see a silver horseshoe that flies
A marriage on the move is promised
But for a love match, that’s no surprise

When you close your eyes, and concentrate
You see a leather bound book for me
A portent of what the future holds
The door to which, I have the soul key

I lunched today with a friend from the local writers' group. We met in the café that is part of an Arts Centre and discussed punctuation mainly, but also drifted onto other topics, as women often do.

Torn Two Ways

When your heart goes one way
And your head's spoiling for a fight
Time alone will tell
Which, if either, was right

I walked this morning, for about two hours, through the town and out the other side, up and around Snapes and then back through the town, home. My boots are very muddy!

The view was blighted by bad light, and it threatened rain, but I reached home, dry and warm, flushed with the exercise. I record whenever I train or attend a dance class or go for a walk - and put a large asterisk beside the entry in my diary. The target is three stars a week.

Bad light

It's low tide and the beach is clear
It's that festive time of the year
When a bad light can blight the view
And bring a distant gloom too near

While the streetlight wears a halo
And the cobbles glisten and glow
Shops are bristling with Christmas cheer
But the shoppers are saying no

It’s sad: we’re all feeling the pinch
The effects of the credit crunch
Can’t afford to waste a penny
Having paid for our yuletide lunch

As the year draws to a close, I'm experiencing the last of everything: the final piano lesson this morning, the final line dancing class this afternoon. Tomorow, I will enjoy the final Thursday morning walk.

A new diary sits on my desk and maps when we restart our activities.

This poem could be interpreted as the quiet before the storm: the hiatus while the world celebrates Christmas in which I have the opportunity to decide how I might spend my time in 2009, time that can only be spent the once.

Too far to cry

Once the first step is taken
Your direction understood
The path ahead’s determined
Through the darkest, wildest wood

Even if you realize
Signposts are twisted awry
And pause to scream Stop! Or go?
You’ll have gone too far to cry

For you, there’s no breadcrumb trail
And no reason for delay
There will be no turning back
No switch labelled ‘life replay’

So, think before you walk on
Which route will you choose to take?
There’s time: listen to the breeze
And the right decision make

On my own for a few days. I should find plenty of time to write ...

Pipe dreams

Pipe dreams
Drawn by the fire
Glowing embers
Suffocating ire

Apologies. Already I have slipped into sex-and-suicide mode, except today it's more about dying than having fun in the sack.

What’s your poison?

What’s your poison?
Where’s it gonna end?
Cancerous gut?
Or a stroke, my friend?

What’s their poison?
A bottle of pills?
Cotton wool dreams
Snuffing all our ills?

Try my poison?
Pour another glass
Drink it down slow
Let this sad life pass

Time is a continuous function; I forget now all the other terms that describe such phenomena, like monotonically increasing.

Age, you would think, runs parallel; but no. 

Turn back time

On my birthday, I'm one year older
With each passing day, I shrink
My only wish: to grow wiser
And remain as young as I think

The child in my heart is still smiling
She’s skipping and laughs out loud
Her only wish: not to turn grey
And to make my mother feel proud

PS It's not my birthday today, but it's someone else's; and it'll be mine soon enough.

Choosing a Christmas gift for me is a nightmare. I don't want for material things. I want peace and harmony around me, and to be loved.

All, I desire

Bury your past, please, my love
Put outdated dreams to bed
Our life would become complete
If you focused on us instead

While we spend time in battle
Worrying about the past
We lose sight of our future
And that’s slipping away so fast

All, I desire for Christmas
If you really want to know
We've the chance to move forward
You forget them; and we pass go

It's been a long time and I've not written much in the meantime, but poems are beginning to work their way through my block and I guess today was the day I had to start sharing them.

Give and Take

I'm missing that button
The one labelled 'Take'
It's not the way I live

If you really want me
To share in your life
You'll need to learn to give