FOP #1

9.4 Club Name

She walks under
the moonlight, muses surrounding
her, waiting for
that moment of inspiration

she clings to.

9.5 Formed Poem - Acrostic

She laughs, watching the movement
happen in front of her,
easily finding her comfort zone.

9.6 Alcohol & Drugs

He loses himself in the darkness,
spiraling downward
into a violent rage -
drunk on a mixture
of Jack and Coke,
believing this makes him
the confident man
he cannot soberly be.

9.7 10-13 Lines

I play with words
and attempt to fixate
on them, but find myself
distracted - I can't seem
to find my reality,
lost in translation, lost in
a dreamer's world.

I want to find my focus,
afraid it's melded within
the political rants
of wars that will never change.
We are broken people.

9.8 Metaphor or Simile

A princess will be born,
with glitter in her veins
body wrapped around
the fingers of every
person her presence graces.

10.1 One animal and one number.

She walks along river banks
skipping stones,
two at a time
and loses herself
in the moment.

Where she stands,
she is queen - ruler
of her surroundings
and emperor of
this time.

She quiets herself
among the swimmers -
fish flopping
after their meal,
and she feels
content.

10.2
Wild Card

His truck is full
of heartbreaks,
memories and sex,
drunken mistakes
and passionate goodbyes -
yet we can't seem
to part.

10.3 Life

She rubs her swollen
belly, full of pregnant promises
and a reminder of
her solider, may his soul rest -
a child
unable to know their father,
because of the vicious hatred
in this world.

10.4 Club Name

She finds herself
drinking in the dark,
sinking into bubbles
and murmuring
fragments of poetry
into the water. Her life
is spun on tales she weaves
and lines she can't help
but whisper to herself.

10.5

Formed Poem Ottava Rima

Sorrow fills the brokenhearted, she finds
herself whispering, praying for blessings
to sweep into her life, filling her mind
with the chorus of angels, who will sing
praises of God, who has begun to outline
the map of her life, a joyous time rings
once obedience comes into play, she
that God Himself will set her free.

10.6

Alcohol or Drugs

Her veins are full
of acid
and she tells
me she can
feel
her sounds..
they are
jumping
at the seams and she can't
stop
the rambling and constant
slowing of
her
.. words.

10.7
10-13 lines

An old farmer
leans over his rake,
and watches his grandchildren
bring in the day's harvest -
corn, tomatoes,
potatoes and an abundance
of responsibility,
accountability and pride -
no better lesson was learned
that this on the farm.

10.8

Metaphor or simile

Seven women sit
on the stairs of a school,
dirty from the days work
yet clean from the hearts
of the children. Their smiles
become nourishment for the soul
and a bridge into eternity.

11.1 One animal and one number

I heard a small crack at the window and
a tiny feather floated beside it. I went outside
and, sure enough, saw one green finch
broken-necked on the path. I went to get a bag
to act as a shroud but when I came back with it
another finch stood, beside the fallen comrade,
unmoving. I edged closer and touched it with
an outstretched finger as it remained, statue-like.
I left him there to mourn his loss and when
I came back a few minutes later he was gone.

11.2. Wild Card

Chips of all colours stacked in the middle
of the table, 'raise' 'call' 'all in.'
My face was poker but my heart was beating like
a brass band drum. The turn, a jack of diamonds
and my inwardly my spirits slumped. I glanced
at my competitors across the table, tense, confident,
nervous. It was time for the river and I knew
I needed a wild card

11.3 Life

Simple red, iconic, like the paper
the articles were printed upon: starlets,
interviews, opinion-changing photographs
from places internet hadn't yet reached.
Black and white covers, sepia tinted mid-sections,
a visitor to Mr Dunkin's sweet shop in a corner
of the bronx and a resident of the White House:
To see the world, that was the purpose of Life.

11.4. Club name from this site

Already I am searching for figments,
tiny fragments of poetry amongst
the ramblings and crossword-puzzles of
my mind.

11.5 Formed poem (No haiku/senyru)

Acrostic

No! Say it isn't so,
On the second day we are to see no more

Haiku's or Senyrus, Saffie the cruel!
A deprevation of simple way over the
Indignant, hated formed verse.
Killing the easy way out will, no doubt
Usurp our cunning speed-writing plans!

11.6 Alcohol or drugs

The last I remember was the swish
of vodka trickling down my throat,
at the nightclub bar. I don't think
you were there but when I woke
in a taxi backseat, you were. The smell
of chips released my nausea and the drums
in my head played einy miny mo on my skull.
And I lied to my inebriated self
to never drink again.

11.7 10-13 lines

I felt that in your company
I could do the things
I never could pluck up my
reserves of courage to try
before. With you I wanted to sing
outside the shower and waltz
where others might see. I wanted
to hold your hand and listen
to raindrops falling around us
and whisper it in your ear.

11.8 Metaphor/simile

The words slipping from my bed head
are as cliche as my 17-year old self:
acne decorated, free-rhyming, pen wielding
poet of poets. The slip of time is funny
and erogenous and tragic and
everything.

12.1 One animal one number

99 red balloons soundtracked
the roadtrip segment from junction 6
to the moment we were rudely interrupted
by a stray stag intent on playing
motorway chicken. He was probably
killed instantly, unlike the Ford Fiesta
passenger in the adjecent lane that skidded
for its final time.

12.2 Wild Card

Senyru

Electric guitars
screech harmoniously, bent
on changing the world.

12.3 Life

It wasn't long after I was dropped
at the campus gates, hugged my parents
goodbye and dragged my luggage into the dorms
that I, shy and clumsy, bumped into
to a raven-haired girl and her pasta dinner,
blundering my way into friendship in this new,
educational step of life.

12.4 Club name

I remember, roboticly looking out the back
seat window on our way to Galway, catching sight
of two chestnut horses, galloping in delight
the expanse of their field as the farmer tried
to catch them for breaking. Even my child's eyes
admired their free spirits, their grace and their ability
to run race my mind's eye 15 years later.

12.5 Formed poem

Tanka (syllables 5-7-5-7-7)

The Angel's Command
yellows and gathers grey dust
beside Lonely Planet's
Thailand guide. Thousands of words,
maps, hours of knowledge, use.

12.6 Alcohol or drugs

I went a full three days before
powdering my nostrils once. I managed
for a week not to wake the kids
in the middle of the night. I achieved
peace with my wife after years of fighting.
And I went a lifetime before realising what
I had lost along the way.

12.7 10-13 lines

My passport pages are as blank
as no memories. Empty as lost tales
about the markets in Cairo,
non-existent tribal tattoos of Oceania
or of sunstroke medicines in Alice Springs.
The pages taunt me,
echo as only paper unweighted
by ink can. Only
the ally of time can help
me win this battle against
unadventure.

12.8 Metaphor or simile

The chess pieces stood, like an platoon
of redcoats, tall, straight, tight. Their ranks
were fearsome, their movements frightening.
But the superiority of the general
pulling their strings was the most
disconcerting of all.

13.1 One animal one number

Translucent, reflecting the water they
floated in, hundreds of jellyfish
broke in the water as the chartered boat
sliced its way to the islands. They looked
alien, graceful, silent. Their shadows,
if they cast them, must have seemed as unusual
to the sea bed scraping crabs in the shallows
below as that of the boat, whale-like
in the sky above.

13.2 Wild Card

I'm sick of wild cards, give me instead
a morsel of something solid to manufacture
some inspiration on. This vagueness draws
on the well devoid of water. This ambiguity
gives me everything, and nothing, to work
with.

13.3 Life

You could wrestle with the doctors
prognosis, you could spar with the wrinkle
of time. You could ask God to intervene
in your prayers or could look for some solution
in discredited medical journals. But when it comes
to the end, you have to remember the sentence
given you at birth, set your affairs in order
and lie down to say goodnight.

13.4 Club's name

There is a nagging buzz in my ear,
an urge to release the voice within
that has nibbled at my conscience these
past months. But it whispers in a language
I have yet to decipher. It breathes a song
I can't find the lyrics to.

13.5 Formed poem.

Sedoka

Leaves fluttered gaily
upon the breath of summer,
sheltering bird nests and songs.

Autumn's chilly wind
sends swallows on their way south,
lamenting the bronzing tide.

13.6 Alcohol or drugs

The way the rich brown nectar sat
amongst the ice cubes, like a microcosm
for a Northern Ocean after winter was comforting.
It was familiar in a way that the world around
me could never be. The pockmarked dartboard
in the corner and the tempermental jukebox
with the flickering left light were the home comforts
I couldn't have. The bitterness at the back
of my throat as the whisky trickled down
was the lesser of the many evils
residing a few inches north in the cavity
of my mind.

13.7 10-13 lines

Short lines, punctuated
in a bohemian-
like fashion help
hide the
lack of meat,
substance on the bone
of this piece
of words I can barely bring
myself to call a
poem.

13.8 Metaphor or simile

As fast as the wind, I ran,
as I always do, down the meta
alley I go to when faced with a bank
of ideas as empty as the real banks
in my country. I have nothing else
to say here. I have nothing
else to withdraw and my overdraft
is over.

14.1 One animal and one number

I had only purchased my new Audi TT
2 days before a cat burglar relieved
my garage of it while I was busy at
the car parts show choosing which air freshener
would go best with the red leather seats.

14.2 Wild Card

I dreamed that night in my new room
in my mothers house in the town of Spoons
about the first day in the new school tomorrow.
I envisioned being useless at PE, getting
lost and being sheparded around by over-eager
classmates. And in Science I imagined a strange,
Dracula like figure with yellow eyes that I would
fall desperately in love with and start a series
of angsty adventures with. What a weird
dream.

14.3 Life

The midwives passed by the entrance
to the mortuary each day on their way
to their work. The newborn babies first saw
light of day at its entrance, on their way home
to start their lives. Architects must have a
dark sense of humour.