The Mirror And The Queen

For NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2016 – Day 21 (to prompt – see below)

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The Mirror yawned,
Too long awake
In answering
The Queen’s mistake.

Every morning,
Throughout the day,
“Who is the fairest?”
She would say.

He’d grown tired,
For he had to scry,
Being unable
To tell a lie.

He breathed a sigh,
And, as if on cue,
He felt the Queen
Come into view.

Then heard again
The same demand,
“Who is the fairest
In the land?”

He scried around
To just make sure,
Then spied another
Much more pure.

Excited now,
With this new find,
Expecting to be
Released in kind.

Pronounced his answer,
Deep and strong,
Projecting words,
As if in song.

“My Queen, you were
The fairest, ’tis true,
But now Snow White is
More beautiful than you.”

Watched, surprised as
Her face contorted,
Felt his own plans
May be thwarted.

Felt her anger,
Felt her pain,
Knew it would be long
Before he slept again.

****

© Copyright 2016 Robin McShane

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The Prompt: “today I challenge you to write a poem in the voice of minor character from a fairy tale or myth. Instead of writing from the point of view of Cinderella, write from the point of view of the mouse who got turned into a coachman. Instead of writing from the point of view of Orpheus or Eurydice, write from the point of view of one of the shades in Hades who watched Eurydice leave and then come back. Happy writing!”

Not sure if one would class The Mirror as a ‘minor character’really…but hope you enjoy! 🙂

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For NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo2016 – Day 17 (not to prompt)

Yesterday was a busy day – a poem half written yet not completed.
To keep to the numbers, here is a quickie – just for fun! 🙂

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There are no more

– sunrises –
— shooting stars –
— waterfalls –
—- warm bazaars –
—– guarantees –
——gentle breeze –
——- fireflies –
——- falling lies –
—— almost wise –
—– almond eyes –
—- long goodbyes –
— lasting sighs –
— beauteous tales –
– bouncing gales –

The world is changing

****

© Copyright 2016 Robin McShane

Spine Poem

Day 10 of NaPoWriMo and GloPoWriMo2016 already! I wasn’t going to follow the prompt but looked at our bookshelves and the following just appeared! 🙂 So, as fun, here is my “Book Spine” poem with the books taken at random from various shelves and sections and adding some of my own words (in italics):

Think Again
Outliers,
The Future Just Happened.

The Prince And The Pauper,
with Homesick Heart
and Seductions Exposed
with A Bouquet Of Laughter
Run Gently,
Poles Apart.

then Comes A Horseman,
with No Time For Romance,
as Unfinished Business
takes him on a
Journey Into The Unknown
searching for
Loving solutions.

****

The prompt: “She challenges us to write a “book spine” poem. This involves taking a look at your bookshelves, and writing down titles in order (or rearranging the titles) to create a poem”

 

 

Illusions and Fairy Tales

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Illusions are but fairy tales,
Magic dust, cloud filled sails,
Breaths of air from giants’ cheeks,
As little boys climb mountain peaks.

Witches fly on sweeping brooms,
Big green goblins sprawl in tree-root rooms,
Kings and Queens court in mighty spires,
With Princesses saved by lowly squires.

All these tales, we know them well,
In our hearts, our minds, our lives, they dwell,
Until calamity strikes unseen,
Then we forget the boy and bean.

Yet what is life but scene on scene
Of fairies sweet and goblins green?
When we take life so seriously,
Illusions move reality.

What was sweet and felt so good,
Trades places now with a scythe and a hood,
We watch our dreams all chopped and slashed,
Hope slowly fails, in slices dashed.

Until we once again believe
In all the tapestry creation weaves,
Some patterns we feel, others we can’t,
Still illusions and fairy tales enchant.

****

© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane

The Angel In The Breeze

Swinging high, swooping low,
Wondering where my hands should go,
Clasped beside me, holding tight,
Or fist before, like Superman in flight?

With wings outstretched beside me flapping,
Speeding me through with lightest tapping,
What does one do with hands and arms?
Whilst flying high they lose their charms.

Ah, but what a joy! The freedom….
Whoa… wait a moment…. back up… Wings?
Wow! Yes! Beautiful, golden-feathered wings!
One either side of me, sprouting from my back!

They flap to my command, I rise,
They fold at my request, I dive,
Then straightening them, we climb the air,
Warm currents can take us anywhere.

So, it’s finally decided, I’ve said it all along,
I really am an angel, good and pure and strong,
Kind hearted, here to serve, offering help to those in need,
Shining light in darkest places, giving voice to those who’ll heed.

And now the calling from above, the persistent voice I hear,
Wherever I decide to go, I really know no fear,
Yet the tugging I now feel, and that voice, start to disturb
This perfect scene I’m in, which cannot be of Earth.

Feathers moulting, abandoning me, golden wings no more,
Brown and tatty extensions, like bones on a broken shore,
“Wake up, wake up!” I hear the call, this can’t have been a dream,
“Get up, get up, get up! They’ve brought the cake and cream.”

The final line decided it and opening eyes I see
A fine blue sky, a few blurred clouds, flying high, way up above me,
An afternoon nap in the garden hammock, hung between the trees,
Brought out the very best of me, the Angel in the Breeze.

****

© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane

I’ll Believe In Somewhere Else

I Believe In Somkewhere Else - July 29 2015

There are times I’d like to run away
As fast as wings can carry,
To daylights in another land
Where darkened thoughts don’t tarry.

Where day is night and night is day,
Moonlight bright and sunlight gray,
Clouds flow fast across the ground,
Water flying high, no sound.

Where dreams come true, love stays sublime,
Memories no tarnish tourney,
Clearly thinking different thoughts,
All light and airy, magic, faerie.

There has to be a place like this,
Resounding purity and bliss,
If not, I simply can’t endure
The life and pain on this dark shore.

So, I’ll believe in somewhere else,
Upside down and inside out,
Different to this world we see,
One to run to, dream about.

****

© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane

Can’t Sleep

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Ten to one,
The clock ticks on,
Relentless in its race.
I’ve never, ever understood
Its need,
Desire for pace.

I should be sleeping,
The night’s away,
Never to return.
Ah well, one day
I’ll sleep for good,
Wrapped within my urn.

I do hope there will be music!

****

© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane

Meeting Beelzebub – #1

meeting beelzebub 2 - june 5 2015 - morguefile

Beelzebub came to meet me in Cherry Lane,
Lined with Honey Blossoms and Jakarandas,
Flowers blooming.

I stood my ground, wondering what he could want,
It was simple, as it always is,
He wanted me.

My soul and I, waiting on his move, watched closely,
Fretting on past deeds, thoughts and feelings,
Quickly, my life passed before me.

Unexpectedly, after all, it was just an afternoon’s stroll,
I grasped my chest, fell to my knees,
Pain ringing through.

He grunted, smiled, flicked his flagrant tail, tossed his head,
Finger beckoning, he grinned,
“Yes, you have sinned!”

A horn sounded, loud, clear, pure, from above resounded,
Angels appeared, with winged chariots,
What a movie!

Beelzebub took a step back, watching warily,
A shining Angel with golden wings flew down,
“Where has he sinned? “

Beelzebub shifted uncomfortably, tail still,
“Well, you can’t blame me for trying,
He almost agreed.”

“We can, we do and he didn’t. Begone! ”
Beelzebub snickered, flickered and left,
” Come with us.”
“You bet! “

****

© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane

To explain: I wrote the last three days poems several weeks ago. The above was the first, which led to the second (posted yesterday) and then the idea to make that into a villanelle (posted on Thursday). All written one after the other, within a few hours. then left to brew, then edited and edited… and edited! I decided to try a villanelle as I haven’t written to a ‘classical’ style for a while, and felt to challenge myself (!) to try a tight form again! Not sure if it was a good idea to try and adapt or whether I should have written from scratch? Any ideas?

Don’t you find the creative process just fascinating? I love to see how we are all inspired differently, express ourselves individually and write uniquely!

1. I would love to hear your comments on these, and the process they took; and
2. Anyone care to share your creative process? What sparks your ideas and how do you get to a final product?
Please share, I am so intrigued by this process and how we are all so different….

For myself, my process varies – from idea to paper within a short period (sometimes with only a little editing) to poems, prose and music composed many moons ago (some many years!), then brought out, dusted off, twisted, tweaked and, sometimes, terminated! 🙂 Ideas just enter my head – sometimes the first few words and sometimes the first few lines – I very rarely see something and think to write a poem! My brain works more with words, thoughts, principles and sounds more than pictures, smell, taste, touch, etc….and yours?

Wishing you all a magical weekend…:)

Meeting Beelzebub – #2

This is very different to the Villanelle I posted yesterday. The villanelle came about as I ‘played’ with the ideas from a first poem, which developed into a second and then into the villanelle. I thought it may be fun to post the three and show some poetic, creative progression!. As I say, the first two are very different in style (free verse) and flavour. Do hope you enjoy them!
Maybe I should name them “The Beelzebub Trio”! 🙂

Anyway, here is the second one – I will post # 1 tomorrow!
I would love to hear your comments…

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photo credit - morguefile.com

photo credit – morguefile.com

Beelzebub came to meet me in Cherry Lane,
Lined with Honey Blossoms and Jakarandas,
Flowers blooming, sun shining,
A fine day.

Stopping before me, he smiled and winked.
Flicking his tail nonchalantly,
He curled one taloned finger,
Beckoning me to follow.

Strange, really, I didn’t feel dead,
After all, this was just an afternoon’s stroll,
At least, that’s how it had begun
Before horny appeared.

I stood my ground, breathing air sweetly,
His smile turned to a frown,
Unfurling the black-nailed finger
He pointed directly at me.

“Follow me!” he commanded.
Not being one to be ordered around,
I stayed my feet,
He was not happy.

****

© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane

Questions and Answers

A very recent discussion with Noirfifre (as of an hour ago!) prompted the following:

How often do we question,
Finding answers leave us blank?
Does the fault lie with our question,
Or, is the answer just too frank?

Where is the mystery,
The magical, mystical power?
To open up Pandora’s box,
Let answers flow and flower.

For, like her box, so many things
Entice us to know more,
What’s inside? How does it work?
What, why, when, who, where?

To find the answers that we seek
We need to know our scope,
Formulate effective questions,
Then hold Pandora’s hope.

****

© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane
As per this blog’s copyright statement

I normally prefer to let a poem ‘brew’ and ‘mature’ for a while with a final edit but thought this fun! Hope you like it (with apologies for the poor rhyme in the fourth stanza – at least the last two letters of each word on line 2 and 4 match! cough, cough! 🙂