Welcome Inn

via Daily Prompt: Hospitality

Join me here, under the sign, the Welcome Inn, it says in rhyme.

Well, come in stranger, do not fear, we’re all friends who have not met you here,

You shall eat our bread and drink our beer, for we only accept those in good cheer

A full stomach you can not refuse, for there’s little else you have to lose

and there’s little else we have to gain, your presence is a sweet refrain.

We shall sing and dance, our music lifting any sunken spirits which still need shifting

And speaking of shifting, we have beds, which can be used for many heads.

The beds are cosy, warm and clean, and the prices suit the most humble means

Well, come in stranger, it’s not the end, merely a new place to meet your friends

An actual update from me. Good to be back.

After an unexpectedly long absence, I am going to come back to blogging land. I am not sure whether I’m doing it correctly or not, but I have decided that that is not for me to decide.

Anyhow, as you may notice from my other posts, I’ve been writing a lot of poetry in the last few months, some of it even getting published, which is wonderful and a real boost for someone like me who doesn’t have a huge amount of faith that people will like their work.

The poems come and go every so often. Lately with working and being a dad, my mind hasn’t had much time for switching to poetry mode. I hope this changes. As much as yoga and healthy eating, I found poetry quite relaxing and helpful during the pregnancy and early months. (Others have different methods, see @TiredDaddy’s blog for entertaining stories of dad-hood) Now that the young lad is moving and we are both working, a moment to lie down and take a deep breath might result in a nap rather than any poetry (or exercise either)

That being said, I am managing to find a bit of time to partake in a FutureLearn MOOC called ‘Start Writing Fiction’. This has taken up my writing time over the last few weeks and is the reason for returning to the blog. I’m not planning to give up poetry, but from now on, expect to find more character sketches, short stories and rants from me (as myself)

In the meantime, here is a poem I wrote back in August, staring at the cloud-shadowed moon from an urban wasteland.

“NIGHTWIDE MIND”

Searching for signals from deep in the sublime

The portal being opened from within  our time

We direct our gaze at the outern edge

And to one another we make this solemn pledge

“That never more shall your ears fail to see,

That knowledge of wisdom found deep in the trees”

And entranced we march into the gaping jaws

Of night’s dark terror, which gives us no pause

The delight which drags us on to our doom,

Is unlike to be found in a twilit tomb

But the open air of the hilltop crest

Would lead us happily to our rest

And while our fellow actors lie in wait, 

We stand alone upon the slate

Our roles to be played in the act of defence

The land we cherished has lost all its sense

Ourselves alone searching for a starry home

And a fitting end to a meaningless poem.

On homecoming

Where we have been is a beautiful memory,

Fading fast as though steeped in sepia

A photograph album soaking in tea.

And tea is one thing not lacking

After all the trips to the car, unpacking

The tea was last in, first out

Except our son, without a doubt 

and we drank in both, the journey ended.

As our house we once again befriended.

The days of sun and tiger mosquito bites remain 

But neither will quite be the same, in the city

The mosquitoes are less bitey

The sun is less shiney

Its glare seemingly harder somehow

As the voices of neighbours are harder and loud

Amplified in the closeness, proximity defeats

The possibility of keeping our vacation Secret.

“Ah you’re home?! It must have been grand.”

“You’re looking fierce well, were you out on the strand?”

And the questions push mirrors before our beautiful lives 

And our ghostly, but real memories merely live on inside.

Horses for Courses

I’m wrapped up in liquid – whiskey or rum

No sign of my lungs failing, but my heart is overcome

You are playing my organs with a serrated spoon

A gutsy concerto by the light of the moon.
The music is yours, hours upon days

Living for moments in the moon’s gentle gaze

An impassioned plea for your time, nothing more

But this dream was a harbinger of the nightmare in store
I wake up alone, you are gone.

Taking the sun, taking our song

I choke on a torrent of bile and of blood

The visions I’ve seen but never understood