NaPoWriMo 4.7: Product Recall

 

mercedes-benz-slr-mclaren

SEND IT BACK

Catch up Friday (and because writing is more fun that other things I should probably be doing).

A quickly-written but heartfelt piece today (for yesterday, day seven) on behalf of me and I suspect many other road-users…

 

Product Recall

In an unprecedented cross-brand move
the producers of multiple makes
of luxury cars have issued
an urgent statement in which they state
a range of failure, including:

indicators which refuse to signal
anything but total disregard
for others; wing-mirrors which reflect
only the image of the driver;
rear-view mirrors which frame
only the owner’s own navel;
windows which bring about
colour-blind confusion between
red, amber and green; and pedals
which twitch of their own volition.

They are recommending the return
of every single model of these cars,
which will immediately be melted down
into ostentatious bike racks and public
sculpture, marking this historic occasion
as an act of reconciliation
to all those who will never again
feel the dark alloy menacing them
just feet away, on the motorway;
to all those who will never again
feel their revving presences sending
fear and loathing
through their
fleshy and crash-helmeted minds.

NaPoWriMo 26: Stories and/or Plans and/or Ideas

This became the nickname for my Mum, so my step-dad made her an actual Mothership logo - AWESOIME.

This became the nickname for my Mum, so my step-dad made her an actual Mothership logo – AWESOIME.

 

Here’s my Day 26 offering, from Jo Bell’s lovely prompt to write a sonnet (or something sonnet-like) about your parents, distributing the lines across your Mum (ABABCD on Sandy, then), then your Dad (CDEFEF on Jeremy, then) and finally, you – for the last couplet (GG on me, then).

It was a fairly quick effort – been a busy day at work! But I managed to keep to the structure – and I hope made it a positive and celebratory piece, to contrast with yesterday’s Picnic Ballad.

I hope you enjoy it and get some insight into both of my parents – and consequently, about me. (And if either of them is reading this, I hope none of it seems unjust or unkind 😉 )

 

Stories and/or Ideas and/or Plans

 

The Mothership: an endless story told

like growing hair heroic silver-grey

and given to the air. She does enfold

each waif and stray; narrates each passing day

 

in technicolour. Even through dark acts

her voice can send out parcels to lost hands.

And he, a voice of malleable facts,

whose mind is full of ideas and/or plans

 

or more the first, or half of the latter.

So given to the earth, so given to

burying in objects and a smatter-

ing of  blushed-untolds, or prides never-knew.

 

And I: am I story, plan, or idea?

I am all three: part told, unfurling, here.

NaPoWriMo 17: Google Search Suggestions on the Day of Thatcher’s Funeral

Indeed she is not. At least we all have death in common though, eh?

Off-prompt today, but will be writing a Blessing (after Jo Bell’s prompt) and a Welcome Poem (from NaPoWriMo’s prompt) for a thing I’m doing at Hyde Park Picture House next Sunday. Neither seemed quite right today…

For there was a little funeral, as you may have noticed or heard about (I did not want to bless Thatcher’s life or passing, nor welcome the funeral, really – I’m saving those for something else).

So I asked Google to write me a poem about it – taking the list of phrases it suggested after the beginnings of statements I put in, then giving it a title (well, two – like I always do). A kind of found techno-list poem. And the following is what Google wrote (with little or no editing – go do it yourself and check!)…

It’s no secret I’m not a fan of the late-Iron Lady’s politics, but I really didn’t edit this very much – but did ‘curate’ it – so of course I wouldn’t have gone for things that sounded too celebratory. There is little that is ‘neutral’. But I guess the title and search phrases (a bit e e cummings?) were just an experiment in seeing what kind of liturgy the internet would turn up.

Actually, I was pleased it ended on our commonality in death. As a Buddhist teacher friend of mine says about, well, many things: “She who has the most __________ [insert anything here], still dies.”

 

 

Google Search Suggestions on the Day of Thatcher’s Funeral

or, How Much / She Brought / What Were / Now / Tomorrow

 

How much

How much does a funeral cost

How much is my car worth

How much is child benefit

 

She brought

She brought me food

She brought the house down

She bought it

 

What were

What were the crusades

What were the jim crow laws

What were the nuremberg laws

What were the symptoms of the black death

What were they like

 

Now

Now we

Now we are free

Now we know

Now we comply

 

Tomorrow

Tomorrow we

Tomorrow we sail

Tomorrow we ride

Tomorrow we work

Tomorrow we die

NaPoWriMo 12: Want/Need

A magick key (for an inadvertently key-shaped poem)

 

A quick one this: I don’t often get slushy and when I do, it tends to be short! And this is very much in that vein.

The prompt for the 12th was to write a list of things you would want to say but would never (thereby, of course, saying them) – so this started from there and became a brief love poem of things unsaid:

 

Want/Need

or, Doors/Keys

 

I want to say

I didn’t know that before

you, I didn’t realise

there was so much

I didn’t know that

I thought

I couldn’t do. But

you,

you and me,

both glass doors,

both lost keys:

you don’t need

to hear it.