Day the twenty-sixth

Today the prompt is to answer a list of categories and use the answers for a poem. I have a short attention span and the first category is weather - so - rain.


Chorley Market

Today is a Chorley Market sort of day
A buying faggots sort of day
A buying biscuits sort of day
A buying second hand biscuits sort of day
A buying fabric sort of day
A buying black pudding sort of day
A buying cheese sort of day.

Today is a Chorley Market sort of day
Where the puddles are congregating
Where the cars are lined up in by the station
Where the queues have umbrellas
Where the buses hiss and splash
Where the cafe windows are steamed up
Where the rain drips down your neck.

Yes, today is a Chorley Market sort of day.

Day the twenty-first

The prompt today is meant to be a homophonic translation - but I am interpreting this a little loosely . . .

When the weather talks . . .

The rain cloud tells us to shelter, and pitter patter
Is not a matter to be considered sufficient
To ditch the um-ber-ella and forget the galoshes
That protect your immortal soul . . .
The blue sky whistles memories into mind now knowing
And echoes the shouts of a beach and sandcastle
Playing of days in the past and promises, perhaps,
Of sun kissed moon washed life again . . .
The howling wind is retching and hurling abuse
At violent misfortune, armed with a bludgeon and
Knife, smashing and slashing the flimsy barriers
Mankind has erected.

Day the eleventh

Today the prompt is the meaning of flowers.

On the third day

Each year you return,
Swallow-like,
And stand strong
Against the storm,
The wind, the rain.
Daffodil.
The real resurrection.

Day the ninth

Today the challenge is a concrete poem, where the physical shape reflects the subject, or tries to!

Dripping


when
it is
raining
the
water
runs off
my hat
and
drips
into
my boots.

Day the fourth

Today the prompt is to base a poem around a remembered image from a dream.

Rainstorm

The road is long, it stretches from the cross
to the motorway bridge
And I have to walk it every day, once one way
and once the other.
In my dreams the road never ends, I have to
keep on walking
Walking, walking, with the raindrops running
Down my neck.
My coat gets more and more soaked and the
water runs into my shoes,
Soaking my socks and sending shivers back
up to my knees.
My hands become wrinkled and waxy, not able
to grip or articulate,
And the perpetual rain keeps running down and
dripping off my nose.