Tag Archives: kids

not now

I shan’t cry now,
not in the glare and noise of the supermarket,
between the breakfast spreads and the cereals.

I mustn’t cry now,
not in front of the children, flown from their school-day,
chattering urgently away, of lessons, games and he-said then I-said.

I can’t cry now,
not when there is no time, no time of my own, just the stove,
the table, and dinner waiting to be cooked and served.

I won’t cry now,
not when I am so tired, that my eyes close before the tears fall,
and there is nothing left of the day, and nothing left in me.

And maybe tomorrow, I wont need to cry.

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fragments I: stones

I
Sun glitters on the ferry’s wake.
Its wash tumbles another cairn,
the clack of the stones
scatters amongst his laughter.

II
I gave my father a stone,
to hold him here,
to remind him.
I heard, yet I neglected to do the same.

III
Intricately wound and ornamented shells
shatter among rough glass and smooth stones.
Littoral becomes pocket kipple,
soon-forgotten, scattered and lost.

IV
The sharp edge planes the surface,
raising a glittering curtain, falling
as the stone skips onward.

 

Collected for the dVerse MTB prompt “picking up some pieces” – gathered partly from an old poem, with some new shards to form a fragment poem.

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shower power

Great responsibility belongs
to those who have great power,
and, so, likewise small responsibilities
must therefore come with my small powers.
So as (it seems) none but I can see the mould,
it falls to me (as always) to clean the shower.

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riding the waves

The pain wakes me,
swelling and rolling through me,
and then passing, as if it never was.

But another swell comes.
And another. Continue reading

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off to the ag store

For the dVerse prompt “Oral Poetry“, I went for a nursery rhyme (sort of) theme…

Off to the ag store, jiggety-jig,
Off to the ag store for food for the pig,
She started off small, but got very big,
Now I’m off to the ag store for food for the pig! Continue reading

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home teaching/learning

For the dVerse Monday haibun, “back to school“:

It’s Tuesday morning of the semester break, and I’m in the bedroom working on my online lectures and tutes: particle and rigid body kinematics and kinetics. In the background my husband is yelling at the kids – “supporting their online schooling” in the kitchen. Continue reading

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acros(s)tic

Tuesday’s dVerse prompt was to write an acrostic or a poem inspired by puzzles. I’ve never gotten into crosswords personally…

Crosswords are, apparently,
Recommended for the brain
Or some other mental activity
So our sanity’s maintained.
Some enjoy them, that is true,
Well, they’re fine, but not me.
Other puzzles bring me pleasure –
Round here we’re much more mathsy!
Division and times-tables,
Some algebra and graphing –

Numeracy’s enabled, and
Our puzzles keep us laughing.

But this prompt did make me smile, because on the weekend I spent a couple of hours creating puzzle-clues for my kids to do treasure hunts. The kids were bored with being in quarantine so I found some chocolate tucked away and sent them on an out-of-season Easter hunt. Some of the clues were word puzzles, including one combined crossword + jumble, but many were maths-based because the little one is learning long division and times-tables, and the twins are doing algebra and graphs in online schooling.  

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the tiger and the persimmon

A retelling of the Korean folktale “the tiger and the persimmon” in kasa form, for the dVerse prompt from Sanaa “Poetics – Exploring the realm of Korean Literature (first stop, Seoul)“:

Tiger comes, black stripes flitting
Between the pines, hunger rumbling.

Down the mountain, golden gingko,
Ginger stripes, flicker faster.

Tiger comes, tail twitching
Above the grass, to the village. Continue reading

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blanket fort

For the dVerse prosery prompt “clouds“, and for H_, the little one:

 

Yesterday the little one whimpered as the swab was inserted, while her brother sneered “my finger goes much further up my nose than that!” And demonstrated.
Today we are sunshine and storm clouds – like a holiday picnic on brittle ice.
The little one is collecting the eggs, telling me about a hen gone broody, making chocolate crackles for everyone and sharing them out.
I try not to snap at her to leave me alone as I fill in close-contact declarations, notify HR… and wait. But I do snap. And her sunshine is eclipsed by the storm clouds of my fear.
But these clouds are clearly foreign. Such an exotic clutter against the blue cloth of the sky that she is trying to spread over us. She raises her blue sky like a blanket fort, for us to creep beneath.

 

The prosery prompt:  it must be prose, no longer than 144 words, and include the lines “But these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter Against the blue cloth of the sky” –from “Clouds” by Constance Urdang. Punctuation may be changed only.  

 

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mum’s hairdressing salon

This is one I wrote shortly before I started keeping a blog, and never got around to posting. It’s not “live”, but I’m linking to dVerse OLN because it is a snippet of life out here, from that burning summer just before covid.

You, put the chair on the porch
You, get the big scissors
Okay, who’s first…
Oh come on…

Right, you! Sit!
(snip snip snip)
light brown hair drifts down
XXXXXXXXXXOw!
You’re fine, stop complaining –
anyway, that’s what happens when you fidget.
You – go get a bandaid! Continue reading

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