(Day 30) Final Poem

Just as you thought
The city had turned into cubes
And our lives had burnt themselves out
Into shadows dropping off the quays
You remember how things were different.

Remember Elm trees
Tied up high fences
Like prisoners of war
And limping trains passing
With open begging bowls.

Helicophers tracking your 
Movements in the skies
And gateposts rattling in the wind
With the slight stench of petals
Twisting like kisses.

Thin palls of mist
Freezing the sunset
And choking the smoke
From the nearby factory
Until it stops,

Swirling in the past

Embracing what comes next.

(Thanks to all for reading. this poem is closure in more than one way.
While i will be glad of the rest, it has been great fun. I have uploaded the collection onto lulu should you wish to buy a hard copy of it - it is here http://www.lulu.com/shop/andy-n/30-poems-in-30-days-2013/paperback/product-20998224.html)

(Day 29) Subtle Escape

Yes, I have no further documents

of my past I can draw on.

No memories left in the ruins

Of my second school

Which almost caused me

A breakdown at 15

Or anything about being at

Youth training 18 months later

Which managed that.

Nothing about working at Macess

In Trafford Park

Or Easi Trim twenty yards up the road

Both of which had me sweeping

Up the car park

During my first day.

Nothing about working in Castlefield Art Gallery

After fleeding my first scheme

After being beat up several times

And frequently getting my hours mixed up

Or Marks Menswear

Who got rid of me on my fourth day

After incorrectly measuring up a customer

And nearly choked him.

Nothing about eight and a half years

At Great Universal at 2 jobs I hated

And a year temping as a kitchen porter

Here, there and anywhere

It becomes like a Jigsaw puzzle

Where I actually worked,

Buried in a maddening kiss

So each place became as much

As a race

But a leap across high fences

A leap from page to page

Life to life

Burying myself constantly

In subtle escapes

From each place

Constantly re-inventing myself.

(Day 29 was sadly wrote before the prompt for today came through which asked us to throw in bits of other languages into the pieces. I did actually try here but the piece told me to forget it and bits of my past instead came into it)

(Day 28) Aborted Phone Call

I ring you in the usual way

But you drop the phone

When you hear my voice

Leaving me with nothing

But the droning ambience

Of an aborted call.

Perhaps you are still in bed

After a late, late night

I had forgotten you mentioning

You were going on drinking wine

And couldn’t be bothered

Staggering out of bed to

Answer the phone

Or maybe your cat

Has instead of missing

The dressing table

After jumping from your bed

Has jumped over the suite

Onto the window

And knocked the phone flying.

Perhaps it was a BT error

Or you are on the phone

To your mate, Steve

For one of your epic three hour calls

Which frequently has me thinking

What the hell you could talk about

For so long

And is meant to feel minor

When Steve says he sometimes

Talk to one of your ex’s all night long

Sometimes,

Or maybe your are rushing off

To the shop across the road

To pay your lottery ticket

Before rushing off to the doctors

Or Asda up the road before it closes

And couldn’t be bothered

Answering my call

At least then.

Either way it still hasn’t

Clouded my love for you.

(Day 28 was a true story from a day or two before
but is a nice poem for my other half, Cathy)

(Day 27) Land's End

Over the cliff I can see

The sea choking itself

Before scattering itself

Over the rocks.

The sun jumping up and down

The tip of the horizon

And it’s rays

Drawing the waves in

Like mermaids

Would tease Sailors,

Twirling with broken rakes

And folding their arms

With a naked burst of sweat

Swaying across broken flowers

And dense, un-scattered sand,

Before bleeding countsleely

On the bay

In a blood soaked sunset.

Arrow driven

At land’s end.

(Day 27 came about from a dream I had stood at Land's End near Cornwall
somewhere I had read about the previous day but alas had never been) 

(Day 26) Skywriting

Skywriting across ripples of wood

And the brow of the hill

Over the horizons of the hotel

Into a review of the waves.

Skywriting across rainbows

Pretending to have fun

Blindfolded into a barrel of

Sniggering windswept giggles.

Skywriting with a ball point pen

Through pateroral scenes

Of short breaks

Before waving goodbye.

Skywriting through Cleverleys

Onto Fleetwood

And past the pensioners

Waiting outside our hotel.

Skywriting in forgotten whispers

With the stones of experiences

And ferries which remind

Tied up in my heart,

Facing the wrong way home. 

(Day 26 is alas another Blackpool poem which came to light today

after watching the writing in this sky this morning)

(Day 25) Questions without Answers

Maybe it was something

To do with the radio

Blasting out Quo then Robbie Wiliams

And the driver’s out of tune vocals

Dancing across the rain/

The two teenagers asleep at

Just outside the graveyard with the Smiths

Chattering in the rain

Or the tramp shuffling

On the doorstep of the travel lodge.

An now ex friend running late

To pick up her daughter from the childminders

Or the Policeman stood up the road

With a kehab dripping off his jacket

As he tells off a speeding driver.

Street lights turning grey

Then flashing blue

And pub doors clattering shut

Like old western saloon doors

In and out of the wind.

Movements weaving together

In the weather

Like a jigsaw

Before changing halfway completed

To a game of cluedo,

Before hurling themselves

Into the river

Like a cult finally giving up,

 Movements stretched skyward

With umbrellas and caps

Dancing in the heavens

Painted in red blue blood,

Leaving you with more questions

Than answers.

(Day 25 is a kinda the morning after poem after

The previous night with a jigsaw feeling like

A mood that morning as I was left with

A series of questions separated from answers) 

(Day 24) Answers without Questions

Something about the hiss of the rain

And the sound of the taxi door

Stroking our umbrella

Before you empty it all over me.

Something about the moonlight

And the purple skies

Kissing like naked cousins

Drunk on raspberry cider.

Moments stitched together

Clothed in shades of emotion

And rattling shoes

Dripping in rain,

While the sound of the buzzer

Echoes down the hall

Before suddenly slamming shut

In the knife throwing breeze.

(Day 24 was wrote in the middle of still crippling back pain

after a lovely evening meal with my partner when getting out

of the taxi the weather outside looked like a series of answers

without questions ).