Poetry 101: Right

If you, like me, miss Writing 201, then you might want to go to Mara Eastern’s blog and check out the Poetry 101 Rehab challenge. It’s weekly rather than daily, which will be useful for many people.

I’ll be posting my responses on Thursdays. This week’s prompt is ‘Right’. Here’s my contribution:


 Her Rights

What
Did she do
To you?

When
Did she ever say
That you are allowed
To tell her
What to do
With her body?

Have you forgotten
That women are
Your mothers
Your sisters
Your wives
And your daughters?

Why do you believe
You can shame her
For having sex
Or wearing
Whatever she wants?

She’s insulted
When you tell her
She’d be prettier if
She smiled
More often.

She’s offended
When you tell her
She does not deserve
To earn
As much as you.

She’s disgusted
When you tell her
She shouldn’t have worn
Those clothes
On that night.

Maybe
It’s time
You remembered
That these are her rights
And you need to shut up.

Writing201 Day 10: Future, Sonnet, Chiasmus

At eight, a future wondrous and bright;
Sixteen, less certain, but no less exciting
Now twenty-three, no fortune in my sight
My future undetermined, unknown and uninviting

If greatness is to make some late arrival
Then let it come to end this fruitless chore!
My future is a game of chance and survival
Survival and chance; rejections build up ever more

University was such an easy choice to make
Yet now I work from nine ’til two cleaning bedrooms
Every application ending in some foolish mistake

I question how much longer I’ll be doomed
To continue on outside of a graduate position
Once so bright, my future now in intermission

Writing201 Day 9: Landscape, Found Poem, Enumeratio

I gave up on creating a Found Poem pretty quickly. Nevertheless, here’s today’s poem:

The sound of humming
Fills my ears
Pleasant
Comforting
The horizon is forever
On my mind
Though I briefly check my mirror
And move into the middle lane
To overtake

The road stretches far
Long and straight
Grey
Dominating everything else
Imposing but spectacular
With meaning
With purpose
A network of intricate design
That guides me to where I need to be

The lane is empty
I pass a school bus
And a lorry
And a van
And a dozen cars
With ease
Because here I am truly home

These roads are my own
Just me
And my motorbike
In our urban landscape

Writing201 Day 7: Fingers, Prose Poem, Assonance

Some twirl, flex in intricate ways; some move so gracefully they command attention from eyes. These belong to someone special. These are mother’s own. Delicate patterns formed, another imitates apprehensively. Circling, winding, looping: colours swirl as fingers and laces seem to combine. Nimble, energetic, the digits slowly tie a knot. Demonstration complete, mother beckons, encouraging smaller fingers to complete the task. Tiny stubs reach down, moving closer to their goal; they fumble in jumbled patterns, flailing once or twice. They circle, wind and loop: colours swirl impossibly as fingers and laces become knotted. They are released in crushing defeat, though all hope is not yet lost. Mother’s fingers are there. “Next time,” she says, and then repairs the damage.

Writing201 Day 6: Hero(ine), Ballad, Epistrophe

Across the fields and hills
Where hungry cattle graze
Moves a true and noble rider
T’wards a city set ablaze
By a creature filled with hatred
Of the gentle people’s ways
Which in a foul and wicked temper
That great city set ablaze

On his trusty, strong companion
On his brave and loyal steed
He rides up to the flaming homes
To end the dragon’s greed
In answer to the call of
The people’s desperate pleas
His sword and shield ready to
Destroy the dragon’s greed

Scaly armour on the beast;
No one has pierced its hide
Not fearing this, he swears
To avenge those who died;
His steed he leaves in safety
Thankful for this gentle guide
And goes to face the beast that
Extinguished those who died

The creature rounds him fiercely
As the warrior draws near;
He approaches the great monster
So bold; no hint of fear
It roars with mighty dominance
It bellows with a sneer
Yet he holds his head up high
Showing no hint of fear

A tail that brings down buildings
Collides roughly with his shield
Though the beast is far stronger
The warrior will not yield
They circle; they attack with force
One of their fates is sealed
Though until that fateful moment
The monster will not yield

A weakness in its armour
Beneath its giant head
Gives the warrior the chance
To strike the beast down dead
To destroy the wretched creature
That the city folk have fled;
When their fierce battle is over
He pins the beast down dead

Writing201 Day 5: Fog, Elegy, Metaphor

Although I once enjoyed the light, when life was full of splendour
In recent times this heart of mine has proven to be tender.
Let not the whispers haunting me persist within my mind
For with them return memories I’d hoped to leave behind.
Take this cloud that hangs over my head away from me
It will not stop, it will not leave, it will not set me free.

I cast a veil over the eyes of those whose trust I’d gained
And in that mist I held them there, broken and contained.
But fortune granted them escape; now I count the cost
Trapped within my bleak surroundings, every friendship lost.

Writing201 Day 4: Animals, Concrete Poem, Enjambment

I realise that this one may be difficult for you to read. I’ve provided the picture below to show you the shape I was trying to create. I’ve also provided the words at the bottom.

20150219_172124[1]

So violent, an uncontrollable

Display: they tear at one another with a brutal force

And hair flies off in all directions. A wild frenzy,

Furious snarls from beastly

Creatures. They offer nothing;

The demons give no hints that

Either of them will surrender.

Punches thrown, blurred lines

Of bodies that collide with

One another. A floor painted

Red with blood, it shines up

Mockingly at the loser. Around

In all directions a resounding

Roar to celebrate the victor’s

Glorious triumph. The prize is

Won, the victor proud, his ferocious energy unleashed

As a deafening shout. What else could I expect?

This is Jerry Springer.

Writing201 Day 2: Journey, Limerick, Alliteration

I struggled a little with this one. I’ve been at a job interview for most of the day so I haven’t had a lot of time to write it. I haven’t stuck to the alliteration but I’ve tried to make sure it sounds like a limerick.

Adventure awaits those who dare
To travel around here or there,
Many people love
This life I speak of
Because quiet lives can’t compare