post-match analysis

there will be scepticism, but i don't care. i wrote that last poem on tuesday night, typed it up quite late and then clicked the wrong button and failed to post it. various snow and family excuses have kept me offline since then and i've only just noticed my mistake when i came to write this post.


anyway here is a graph comparing my poem writing rate (in green) to my poems required rate (in pink)

and here is a wiggly line showing how my cumulative running totals compared to the pace i should have kept up

despite how bleak it looked at times, quantity was just about sustainable - but what of quality? i reckon there are four or five which count as quite good, seven or eight which rate as embarrassingly poor, which leaves about three-quarters of the output solidly within the realms of mediocrity.

as of right now, the most read poem is number 47 (why? it is not really a good one) and the blog as a whole is only just shy of 500 hits, which is far more than i reasonably expected. thankyou to anyone who read any of this - even if you hated it, the gentle swell of numbers made me feel a tiny bit validated.

for the record, my personal favourite was number 11 and least favourite number 17. why not leave a comment to tell me which you particularly didn't mind or couldn't bear?

Stats - Day 30

poems written = 50

poems written per day = 1.6667

poems remaining = 0

 
with a sigh of relief and an embarrassing sense of achievement i fall across the finish line.

50PoWriMo - L

the hedgehog and the balloon and me and my chip pan



we all have a reason to proceed with caution
we all have a need to be careful
there are myriad troubles we each have our portion
i am informed it's a jungle out there full
of dangers and strangers - of howls growls and rumbles
and reasons you'd better beware. fall
down at your peril for each trip or stumble
may leave you more vulnerable than you supposed
although you may fight you are bound to succumb. al-
though you may be strong you've been too exposed
to the raging contagion to defend yourself
from the vicious, insidious, hideous foes.
that's why someone wise invented health
and safety legislation
to make everyone minimise dangers or else
expose themselves to litigation.

consider the multitudes of tiny
mammals who snuffle through vegetation
of these the hedgehog is most spiny
and thus has more reason than most to take care
for every prong, every prickle and tine he
has responsibility to be aware
(i fear that's clear and not debatable
i think you'll find it's harsh but fair
no matter how much he may hate it all
no matter how he may impugn)
if he must be trusted with an inflatable
you'd better pray for that balloon.

now consider me in my kitchen
half-cut, up late and acting the buffoon
my rumbling stomach may start twitching
and though i should be sound asleep i'd
like something more than a sandwich in
i'm hankering for something deep fried
though i know oven chips are leaner
and though the smoke alarm may beep. pride
cometh before falling into a ravine or
the foolish ways i may expire. when
i trust my cynical demeanour
i'll ignore the lectures of firemen
and any or all advice they're propounding
when any chip pan can inspire yen

each man or beast's a danger to himself and all around him
take care out there for fear is self-compounding



this took much longer than it looks like i put effort into it, but at least the whole thing's over now.
thanks to @sallonoroff and @thetearooms on the twitter whose suggested titles i concatenated so inexpertly

Stats - Day 29

poems written = 49

poems written per day = 1.6897

poems remaining = 1

required poems per day = 1

50PoWriMo - XLIX

breathing / dreaming



       as certain as the winter sun casts
     long shadows in the late afternoon
       as sure as darkness follows
      i'm forever drawing closer to you
breathing deeper than a daydreamer
   you're playing me like an instrument
      not my tune but ours
      the subtle intricacy of duophonic harmony
     only definable in terms of itself
      one iterative vortex
 dreaming of reality




with slightly oblique thanks, once again, to the lovely @Heilewelt

50PoWriMo - XLVIII

allegory



there was a little anchovy
sat on a pizza pie
although he'd love to branch off, he
could neither walk nor fly
nor could he find the words to say
nor could he catch my eye
thus couldn't persuade me to stay
his execution date
he couldn't solve his worries
he was inanimate
and half covered with melted cheese
met his delicious fate

Stats - Day 28

poems written = 47
poems written per day = 1.6786
poems remaining = 3

required poems per day = 1.5

for the first time, my required rate has fallen below my achieved rate - this looks great on the graph (i might post the graph when i've finished)

50PoWriMo - XLVII

sappy lust




i know you know i love you
but i don't think i tell
you often enough
how much i also
"fancy you"
you're cool and smart and funny
and cynical and caring and myriad
other lovable things
but you are also
so sexy
i feel lucky to have you
as my confidante, as my other half
as my best friend
but i also feel
lucky to have you

i love the way you don't believe me
when i tell you that you're gorgeous
   and alluring
      and enthralling
         and foxy
            and stunning
               and bewitching
                  and exquisite
                     and cute
                        and ravishing
                           and delicious
and i'm glad your beautiful body
has got beautiful you inside

50PoWriMo - XLVI

gift



what i do best
i do best
when i do it
for you

Stats - Day 27

poems written = 45
poems written per day = 1.6667
poems remaining = 5

required poems per day = 1.6667



finally back on schedule.

50PowriMo - XLV

comfort food



prematurely wintry
the encroach of the outside world
seems barely held back
by the double glazing
our sleepy huddle
a comforting defiance
our televisual anaesthetic
lends a timeless filter
as the conversation turns
to dinner
i'm reminiscing
about the meal that
in my recollections
was the repeated absolute
of every saturday tea-time
of my childhood
when its hot, filling,
(nutritionally questionable)
embrace sustained my familial lethargy.
as you prepare it for me
i realise i am playing
a different role
in the remake
of the same scene
you made my food
but you were my comfort

50PoWriMo - XLIV

it's my party and i'll sneak off to write a poem about it if i want to



please don't get mad at
my socially inadequate
ways
i'll be the one who stays
on the periphery
conversing vicariously
in introverted analytical silence
allowing the cadence
of the chatter to flow
til i know
that my patient
wait for a vacant
space for a poignant
statement
is over and i'll shoot in
drop something astute in
just enough to make you think i'm contributing
and go back to being the one who lingers
on the fringes

Stats - Day 26

poems written = 43
poems written per day = 1.6538
poems remaining = 7

required poems per day = 1.75

50PoWriMo - XLIII

tidying



there is a chasm
between the way
you are prepared
to live and the way
you are prepared
to let others think
you are prepared
to live which is
bridged by that
special rapid tidy
you perform in those
last few hours
before your guests
are expected - telling
a social lie - like
all the other
pretending
that you're fine

50PoWriMo - XLII

friends don't let friends get "friends" haircuts



it's not selling out
to be more mainstream
than you ever thought you'd end up
when you were seventeen
but if you're not racked with self doubt
when a previously cool head
of hair gets the conformist chop
a part of you is dead





bonus coolpoints for anyone who knows where i stole the title from (most of them taken away if you googled it)

Stats - Day 25

poems written = 41
poems written per day = 1.64

poems remaining = 9
required poems per day = 1.8

50PoWriMo - XLI

why don't you?



being a teacher
the best few hours of my week
but i can't do more

mentors should be wise
skillful, calm and confident
that's not who i am

50PoWriMo - XL

the same joke i make every year




whenever
anyone asks me
what i'm thankful for
i tell them
i'm thankful
that i'm not
american

Stats - Day 24

poems written = 39

poems written per day = 1.6250
poems remaining = 11

required poems per day = 1.8333

50PoWriMo - XXXIX

attest



i sometimes wonder if i should hide
that ten-year-old boy inside
that will always set my heart
racing in the hours before the start
of a test series
but as each one looms i fear his
influence will never fade. we go
deaf to all but the radio
tms soundtracks my every summer day
and somehow away
series elicit a more illicit thrill
finding myself still
awake and duvet-wrapped and half past three
hanging on every ball of commentary
transporting
me to sporting
contests in venues too far to ever visit
no matter how hard the child inside may wish it

50PoWriMo - XXXVIII

i get a little upset when people i don't like seem to like me



we work hard
at letting you know who we are
so that you know that who we are
is not like who you are
and we like to know who you are
so that we know that who you are
is not like who we are
if we don't like who you are
we know that you don't like who we are
right?

Stats - Day 23

poems written = 37

poems written per day = 1.6087
poems remaining = 13

required poems per day = 1.8571

50PoWriMo - XXXVII

meta



just because a poem is slight
a few compact lines
doesn't mean it can't hold some great insight
sadly not the case this time

50PoWriMo - XXXVI

one hundred thousand pounds




thirty-five point six tonnes of pennies
it's hard to picture than many
piled up into a shiny wall
over seven hundred days
(not quite two man-years) at minimum wage
six times the national
debt per head of population
or adjusting for inflation
two grand in 1939
could a man raise ten to the fifth quid if he
suddenly needed extra liquidity
not by selling anything of mine



thanks to @sallonoroff on the twitter for the title (i need all the help i can get)

Stats - Day 22

poems written = 35

poems written per day = 1.5909
poems remaining = 15

required poems per day = 1.875

50PoWriMo - XXXV

twenty years ago today




i remember hearing
a quiet collective cheering
when we heard that she'd withdrawn
and within days she'd be gone
for the first time in my lifetime
i'd live under a new prime
minister although
i'd just assumed she'd never go
we're doing our best to forget her
we knew things could only get better
(though evidently only a tiny bit)

50PoWriMo - XXXIV

to the incredibly loud and annoying girl who won't shut up




trust me darling, you are not
as funny as you clearly reckon
nor for that matter as hot
as you make out with all that make up
(though that battered vintage homburg
and insufficient skirt's a bold fashion
statement) i'm so tired from work
so shut up, grow up - you might wake up

Stats - Day 21

poems written = 33

poems written per day = 1.5714
poems remaining = 17

required poems per day = 1.8889

50PoWriMo - XXXIII

making promises to my son



i can't promise to be someone you're proud of
but i promise to be proud of you
whenever you deserve it
(and to believe that's always)
i can't promise to be a model man
but i promise to be a solid base
from which you can build your own manhood
i can't promise to know what you need
but i promise to teach what i know 
i can't promise to protect you from all harm
but i promise to always be there
to help you pick up the pieces
i can't promise you'll always like me
but i promise i'll never
stop loving you

Stats - Day 20

poems written = 32

poems written per day = 1.6
poems remaining = 18

required poems per day = 1.8

50PoWriMo - XXXII

i've been awake since 4am




the caffeine in my bloodstream tries
to stop me closing up my eyes
although it's all i really want to do
life and children have conspired
to need me awake - though i'm so tired
i'll have to go and make my 13th brew

Stats - Day 19

poems written = 31

poems written per day = 1.6316
poems remaining = 19

required poems per day = 1.7273

50PoWriMo - XXXI

untitled (for my wife)



you are sleeping in my arms
as peaceful as a closed flower
the warmth of your breath
diffusing across my chest
like an ebbing tide
dancing away from the sure
i try to match
the rhythm of your lungs
out of phase to minimise
your rise and fall
the warmth of your closeness
a comfort i cling to

it is in moments like these
when i need you least
i treasure you most

50PoWriMo - XXX

i might get that ...




once there was a girl
with a tattoo on her left cheek
that read
"something this true can never be vain"
her face thus adorned
she made her way through society
leaving in her wake
a trail of doubt and confusion
to what did her bold statement refer?
was it a statement of fact
     or a philosophy?
was there a level of irony
     or was there a flaw in the logic?
was there an absolute truth?
could there be a comparative truth?
for that matter
     was there an absolute vanity?
was it some sort of in-joke?
were they no longer cool enough to understand?
was it real?
     did it hurt?
          would she live to regret it?
but noone ever asked her
they just stared and wondered
because the sort of girl
who has a tattoo on her face
might be too scary to talk to

Stats - Day 18

poems written = 29

poems written per day = 1.6111

poems remaining = 21

required poems per day = 1.75

50PoWriMo - XXIX

i saw her on tv and half my life rolled back




manda rin, manda rin
she sets my hormones in a spin
i barely know where to begin
to talk about sweet manda rin
i love the shouty way she sings
for bis, data panik or the kitchen
she's the teen-c nation's queen

manda rin, manda rin
star of my teenage imaginings
since that photoshoot i'd seen
in melody maker magazine
(you know, where she's tricycling)

manda rin, manda rin
no matter where my heart has been
in all those moments in between
some part has always had her in

50PoWriMo - XXVIII

i had a lot of time for introspection because i forgot my keys and had to wander the streets



there's nothing like doing something stupid
to focus the mind on all the stupid things you did
no matter what achievement may balance the scale, you're
only able to dwell on the failures

Stats - Day 17

poems written = 27

poems written per day = 1.5882
poems remaining = 23
required poems per day = 1.7692

50PoWriMo - XXVII

just some of the many reasons why i have never been successful



i've never had a goal defined with any sense of clarity
i've never worked out how to make motivation
i've never reckoned anything is due to me
i've never shot for things above my station
i've never really not been cruising comfortably
i've never had the courage to commit

i've never mistaken dreaming for reality
i've never worked hard enough for it

50PoWriMo - XXVI

the poet or the marketeer



she would rather date
a successful french poet
than a man who works
in marketing
a reasonable mandate
i thought although it's
not knowledge based, just her
gut feeling

Stats - Day 16

poems written = 25

poems written per day = 1.5625
poems remaining = 25

required poems per day = 1.7857

so that's the half-way mark reached, and only a day behind schedule. i am running very low on ideas and inspiration, however.

50PoWriMo - XXV

the russian czar and the aztec goddess



she kept a list of all her lovers
carefully created curlicued calligraphy
in gold glitter gel pen
writ bold on her bedroom wall
a timeline of trysts
a chronology of consorts
a history of hookups
a lineage of liaisons
she never knew the name of number one
nor several of his successors
and most of the monikers were missing from her memory
but she never forgot a face
or a quirk
or a characteristic
or a body
so she knew noone was missed from her list
her suite of suitors sobriquets
starting with "the silent shadow"
(a teenage trembler
at a party she should never have attended)
who she had climbed on a cupboard
to inscribe close to the cornice in the corner
she liked to lie and let her eyes
rest on members of the castlist of her memories
each nickname an episode title
in the show she wished she was making
some were classics like "the impossible dreamer"
"lullaby" or "all the invisible things"
relationships that had ebbed and flowed
story arcs that delineated chunks of her past
some still gave her chills just to think of them
like "ironman", "the perfect flaw" or "constant gift"
she still got a laugh from that time
starting at about the middle of column two
where she was choosing partners
so their names fitted with their predecessors
"new man" and "bad eel"
"the black saint" and "the sinner lady"
"vodka" "lime" and "soda"
"benji" "zax" and "the alien prince"

it's a cliche about regret
but she never regretted anything she had done
there were two names on the wall, however
that she only saw with sorrow
the lovers she should never have let leave

"the russian czar"
she met in a bar
drinking vodka and kahlua
he had perfect hair
and a regal air
she wanted to topple him then and there
he was the biggest of shots
and she knew that she ought
to barely have given him a second thought
but she wanted to please him
nearly did her knees in
working hard to thaw his heart that was freezing
til he left one october
without word it was over
and it was after new year's before she was sober

"the aztec goddess" was one quarter mexican
didn't speak much spanish - except bedroom lexicon
like tlazolteotl she brought purification
and a sense their relationship brought recreation
each one redefined in reference to the other
intimately intertwined living as lovers
closer than they ever could have imagined being to a person
one coin with two sides, two different versions
of the same earth-child entity
but that was only their private identity
they hated each other's family and friends
the real world conspired their inevitable end


back in her boudoir bedecked with gold letters
as she takes up her pen to chalk up her new lover
there's always a pause to think "would it be better
if the list was just those two and i forgot the others?"





many thanks to the lovely @Heilewelt who suggested the title to me on the twitter - not convinced this rambling mess does her justice, but at least it's not for lack of effort.

50PoWriMo - XXIV

impossible



you can't have a quagga as a pet
they haven't unextinctioned it yet
you'll want one when they do, of course
it's so much cooler than a horse

Stats - Day 15

poems written = 23

poems written per day = 1.5333
poems remaining = 27

required poems per day = 1.8

50PoWriMo - XXIII

herschel's birthday



he discovered uranus
which is nothing to be sniffed at
he discovered infrared radiation
which is less frequent than you can see
he discovered that coral is an animal
and passed it on

but most of all he was a musician
a composer and orchestra director
a professional artist and a scientist for fun

and he didn't live to be two hundred and seventy-two
so he doesn't have to read this

50PoWriMo - XXII

job satisfaction



anyone who says they love their job
is lying
a universal truth we work hard at
denying
think about it too long you won't keep yourself
from crying
on the days i like it most i might describe mine as
stultifying
the rest of the time it's just a slow method
of dying

Stats - Day 14

poems written = 21

poems written per day = 1.5
poems remaining = 29

required poems per day = 1.8125

50PoWriMo - XXI

silent prayer



give me calm
give me peace
give me patience
give me skill
give me confidence
give me sensitivity
give me wisdom
give me humility
give me help
give me focus
give me time
give me fortitude
give me perseverance

take all i have

Stats - Day 13

poems written = 20

poems written per day = 1.5385
poems remaining = 30

required poems per day = 1.7647

50PoWriMo - XX

i dreamt i worked in faerie hr



these are tough times in our industry
the melodramatic might call it tragic
but a greater dependence on technology
has led to less demand for magic
factor in the global recession
and days lost last year to snow
these are tough times in our profession
we're going to have to let some of you go
many of you highly skilled faerie
each of you a faithful servant
many of you have young families
i wish i didn't have to make you redundant

but there are some wishes
it's not within our power
to grant

Stats - Day 12

poems written = 19

poems written per day = 1.5833
poems remaining = 31

required poems per day = 1.7222

50PoWriMo - XIX

paul chambers




he wrote
one joke
to his friends
and it ends
up with a long and bitter fight for justice
let's go up
and blow up
with indignation
at misinformation
used to convict him - the fight's not just his
anyone
could have done
one tweet
whose conceit
and comedic mores
were ignored
perverted
misinterpreted
made an example
systematically trampled
we should never have needed to have discussed this

Stats - Day 11

poems written = 18

poems written per day = 1.6364
poems remaining = 32

required poems per day = 1.6842

50PoWriMo - XVIII

free




ten spare minutes
a horn in my hand
and noone in the house?

noodle a scale

then a couple more
and hold

               that top note
til it starts to swirl
and bend it to my will
and the lip-slurred harmonics
leaping like the sparks in a plasma ball
and them i'm away
tearing into the instrument
a flurry of fingers
a confection of notes and noises
an essential scream
responding to my every nuance as my thoughts and fears and joys and things for which there are no words come pouring through like the deluge after a dam is destroyed and each honk and squeal and lick rolls over the end of the last
and i'm dancing
and my feet make their own music
and my lungs are at their limits
and my heart is pounding
and my tongue is a blur
and i ...
      and i ...
            and i ...
                  and i ...
                        and i ...
and i get interrupted by a knock at the door

i would hate to have been my neighbours
but for ten brief minutes
it was great being me

50PoWriMo - XVII

george the parrot



stanley misses you
he put up all those posters
taped round every tree and lamppost
was that really the best photo of you?
(like the missing people on tv
who would hate that they were famous
in badly cropped facebook shots
if they didn't have deeper concerns)
your reflection in the background
seems to have captured you most malevolent side
and yet
the strangely specific time of loss
makes me wonder what happened at the time
i hope you aren't missing
so much as free



http://tumblr.com/xh2p249yg

Stats - Day 10

poems written = 16

poems written per day = 1.6
poems remaining = 34

required poems per day = 1.7

50PoWriMo - XVI

the boy whose hiding place was more exposed than he realised



he crawled beneath the leaves
         the top layer soft and orange
         the next crunchy and browning
         the last a filthy mulch
     he crawled beneath the filthy leaves

he tore apart the ground
         easing a crumbling crack open
         ripping into the fissure
         a muddy cast on his bleeding fingertips
     he tore apart the muddy ground

he curled into a ball
         trying to telescope so tiny
         anatomical origami
         folding limbs in tight creases
     he curled into a tight ball

he covered up his face
         buried in his clenched arms
         shielded underneath his hair
         and tearful, bloody mask of filth
     he covered up his tearful face

he couldn't hide his wings
         the tighter he curled the more they spread upward
         retreating back through his escape route
         glistening through the leafy blanket
     he couldn't hide his glistening wings

Stats - Day 9

poems written = 15

poems written per day = 1.6667
poems remaining = 35

required poems per day = 1.6667

50PoWriMo - XV

the last of the anonymous international playboys



mustachioed, track-suited, grey
and with total casual carefreedom
the man on the morning train
dons a second pair of glasses
to read his polish playboy.
all his fellow commuters
pretend not to notice
as they read their metros
with atypical interest
(and i get out my notebook)

50PoWriMo - XIV

we have nothing to fear, but ...



for
everything
actual,
real,
identifiable,
there
seem
endless
limitless
fancies

advancing
nefarious
demons
made
of
nonsense
still
terrify
even
rational
senses

Stats - Day 8

poems written = 13

poems written per day = 1.625
poems remaining = 37

required poems per day = 1.6818

50PoWriMo - XIII

i still couldn't



if i had a cape i still couldn't fly
if i had a grape i still couldn't make wine
if i had a paper i still couldn't lie
         in sufficient quantities to satisfy the masses
if i had a wand i still couldn't cast a spell
if i had a pond i still couldn't be a well
if i could respond i still couldn't tell
         them what i think of them
if i had x-ray eyes i still couldn't see
if i had goodbyes i still couldn't be free
if i had countless tries i still couldn't be
         the right sort of right sort of person

50PoWriMo - XII

plans



i'm a big fan
of making plans
i dream up a scheme every ten waking minutes
in minute detail
but my complete fail
is ever endeavouring to begin it
i am indescriminately capricious
i am flightier than david collins
i could make a billion wishes
i could be myriad things
but i'm insufficiently competent for most of them
and i'm excessively lazy for all of them

Stats - Day 7

poems written = 11

poems written per day = 1.5714

poems remaining = 39

required poems per day = 1.6957

50PoWriMo - XI

sauce




i wanna be a saucier
so flipping bad

careme and escoffier won't have nothing on me
i'll be the master of all their five categories
and more they could never have comprehended
as i crack all their classics and leave them transcended
my handwritten paraphrase of peterson's tome -
full of fuctions of flavours that make the mouth foam
with anticipatory drool just from reading it -
will have slavish devotees of what i decreed in it
my sauce gribiche
will make fish
kill themselves just to be served in it
(what makes them think they're deserving it?
i'll serve it up with sweatbreads)
til everyone who wanted to eat sped
to eat my perigueux
or my sauce foyot,
ailoli, remoulade, buerre rouge
sauce vierge, veloute, skhug,
salsa, pesto, meuniere,
sauce choron or sauce robert

lord of the liaison, ruler of the roux
i'll be the one they all want to outdo
but no matter the mastery my challenger obtains
you can't beat the man with sauce coursing through his veins




for the record - i sort of love the idea of being a chef but couldn't bear the lifestyle. i am, however, more than a little obsessed with the perfect sauce gribiche. oh, and the coolest position in a brigade kitchen is obviously the communard, despite the 80s pop implications.

also, this was another title suggested by Smedley in a blog reply (thanks). why not suggest a title for me to work on (please)?

50PoWriMo - X

serving



i work much harder
for this hour and a half
early on a sunday morning
than in any given hour and a half
of my working week
because the rewards are greater
than any pay

Stats - Day 6

poems written = 9

poems written per day = 1.5

poems remaining = 41

required poems per day = 1.7083

50PoWriMo - IX

five haiku in bed




i)
a lone firework's
lateness and isolation -
no catholics are killed

ii)
summing squares of primes
up to one hundred and one:
seven five nine nine seven

iii)
do you remember ...?
no, reminiscing is not
bedtime suitable

iv)
two seconds of prayer
for each person i care for?
far more than i thought

v)
downside of the love
i can't but feel for my child?
cleaning up her sick

50PoWriMo - VIII

i dreamt i met lennon's ghost and he was a jerk



i said "hey john,
can you sing me a song
about what it's like to be dead"
"of course," said he,
"for a reasonable fee"
"stuff it, i'll just imagine instead"

Stats - Day 5

poems written = 7

poems written per day = 1.4

poems remaining = 43

required poems per day = 1.72

50PoWriMo - VII

listening to 60s jazz with a 4-year-old girl






i)
can you see me dancing?
     i can see your head moving
is that how we dance to this music?
     you can dance how you like to whatever music you like
then i'll move some other parts too


ii)
is that a saxophone?
     yes, sweetie, that's coltrane
it's noisy but sort of pretty


iii)
that lady singing sounds sad
     that's sort of the point
oooh, the piano has the tune now, maybe that will cheer her up

Stats - Day 4

poems written =6

poems written per day = 1.5

poems remaining = 44

required poems per day = 1.6923

50PoWriMo - VI

face it




i've grown accustomed to my face
with this portion of it covered,
hidden in a hairy haven, encased
in comfy carpeting, shaggily smothered
feeling like i look like pharaoh sanders
infuriating my beautiful lover
who has told me with increasing candour
how much she despises
having to look at it and her
lovingly intended advice has
finally worn me away
and a number of devices
have left me cleanly shaved
as a gift for her birthday

trouble is my face appears
in every shiny thing and mirror
and i can't help myself but leer
the change in look is so severe
just as i feared
                 i look weird
and since my face had been sheared
it looks so much fatter than with the beard
i've grown unaccustomed to my face

Stats - Day 3

poems written = 5

poems written per day = 1.6667

poems remaining = 45

required poems per day = 1.6667

50PoWriMo - V

just a short one as i am temporarily unable to hold a pen



if, when attempting a task that requires a certain level of concentration,
your mind starts wandering to what you're going to write a poem about that evening and you fail to pay as much attention
to the task in hand as you should
there will be blood

50PoWriMo - IV

defenestration



like chopin's piano
like a cliched rockstar's hotel television
like applecores onto motorway verges
like pino pinelli
       (who should never be confused with gino ginelli)
like my highschool girlfriend's a level results
       with which she was so disappointed
            that i felt unable to be sad about mine
like my vomit that one time i drank cinzano
       that i subsequently had to clean 
            from my downstairs neighbours' window
like the ring that flew off my finger
       as i was gesticulating whilst dancing
            that i thought i would be sad about losing
                but, like the person who gave it to me,
                    i was better off without
like the surreptitious paper planes made in maths lessons
       as we competed over who could hit the cars
            of the most hated teachers
like the tiny torn pieces of the poem
       i wrote that girl that time
            as she demonstrated her general disdain
                for everything i was
like the girl on the something corporate album
like the scenario that plays out in your mind
       when you are on the receiving end
            of a game of "tell your mum i saved your life"
like an early draft of this poem
       that revolved around a weak pun
            about installing linux






first use of a suggested title - this one with thanks to Smedley in a blog reply

Stats - Day 2

poems written = 3
poems written per day = 1.5

poems remaining = 47

required poems per day = 1.6786

50PoWriMo - III

ten seconds of a train journey



an almost endless succession of gardens and the backs of houses
pass by in the anonymous dusk
a flickering wallpaper - bed to rest my vacant eyes
until the first lit window i lit upon
a first floor flat kitchen flooded with fluorescent glow
practical rental-property proportions and palour
i saw her dancing
gliding serenely backward accross the lino
arms framing the embrace of her invisible partner
oblivious to all but the ballroom bliss
her unpainted face a smilingly serious mask
which she drops as she stops, laughing as she turns away
just as she disappears from view

50PoWriMo - II

the things you love someone in spite of are more significant than the things you love them for



i've always been proud
that i've never allowed
my mind to be weak enough to have been swayed
by the sleekness and shine
(that reflects our decline)
and style above substance of what apple made
remaining committed
i've never permitted
them into my home - yet to my dismay
although i despise them
my wife regularly buys them
and somehow i find i love her anyway

Stats - Day 1

poems written = 1

poems written per day = 1

poems remaining = 49

required poems per day = 1.6897

50PoWriMo - I

those awful beasts


i can hear them up to something
in the stillness of the night
every crash and every scuffle
echoes ominously clear
i'm convinced that they're destroying
something that i really like
trying to discern the muffled
tragedies i'm sure i hear
every feline scratching, jumping,
running, pouncing, hiss and fight
makes me paranoid my stuff'll
end up trashed. my wonderings fear
those awful beasts

i need your help / groundrules

mostly for my own reference, this is how this blog will work.

1) between 00:01 on 01/11/10 and 23:59 on 30/11/10 i will write and post 50 poems. they don't have to be good, i don't have to be proud of them, but i do have to make myself do them.
2) at the end of each day i will post some stats about how i'm doing and the rate i will need to write poems at to achieve this goal
3) i may not post more than 2 poems in a day unless the required average rate gets above 2 per day.
4) poem posts will be datestamped the time i wrote the poem. stat posts will be datestamped 23:59


now the actually interesting bit - for you (maybe)

i need people to suggest potential titles for poems for me to write in this time. post them as a reply to this post or @ them to me on the twitter. i won't promise to use them, but let's face it, if i don't i'm going to end up having to find my own inspiration and i know how badly that can go.