A Bathroom Meditation

Image: from Pexels

Stand and stare
at the body bare,
these hips don't fit into
little pretty spaces,

they don't like to be held back.
Called child-bearing hips
babies carried inside and out,
these hips are free,

mighty in their dimension
curvy in their presentation.

12th poem for NaPoWriMo2017

ⓒ Nicole Moore

The Thickness of Racism

Image: from Pexels

Prejudice is only skin deep
this is the thickness of racism.

It appears without warning;
in fact, It was socially constructed centuries ago
and exposed and sold as a way of discriminating 
in a variety of guises...of making a fine distinction.

It is so embedded in some cultures
that people are unaware, unconscious 
of their mindset developing in an 
'ignorance is bliss' context.

The ability to discriminate is a precious facility
but in the wrong hands, it will bite like a mosquito
or buzz around you like a bee;

It can rear its ugly head in a myriad of guises
And sometimes it will come alive
in such force, it will feel as if you've been slapped in the face.

So the pointless death of another black man
captured on video in the US
and seeping into the UK
evolves into a  belief 
that a man has to be up to something criminal.

Prejudice is only skin deep
this is the thickness of racism.

11th poem for NaPoWriMo2017

ⓒ Nicole Moore

Straight-talking

Photo: Me and my son Andrew,  December 2014.

He's a no-nonsense, straight-talking kind of man
Strong on family values
And whenever he can
He'll talk with the width and depth
To home in on issues important to him.

He has a wild thorny side
Little things he observes that just ain't right
Can and sometimes do make him mad
Enough to retaliate
To take a stand.

He has a fun side too
A great sense of humour
Especially a joy to see
When he interacts with his daughter
Then his softer lighter side will be full of laughter.

10th poem for NaPoWriMo2017

(*Portrait poem)

ⓒ Nicole Moore

NaPoWriMo's 10th day prompt:
*Write a poem that is a portrait of someone important to you. It doesn't need to focus so much on what a person looks like,  as what they are.

Still a Tree

Photo: Me sitting on a Banyan tree, August 1988 in the enchanting Oratava
Acclimatisation Gardens, on the edge of Puerto de la Cruz in the second most
major town in Tenerife.

It's hard to believe

The Banyan tree

Started its life as an epiphyte

Yet still, beauty lies deep

The Banyan tree remains

Strong, eloquent, solid, still tree

Yet still, its beauty lies deep

Gracious and grounded

Strong eloquent, solid, still a tree

Over 200 years old

Gracious, grounded

Its majestic presence is irresistible

Voiceless it speaks

Started its life as an epiphyte

Connecting roots directly and indirectly to its central trunk

It's hard to believe

8th poem for NaPoWriMo2017

(*pantoum poem)

© Nicole Moore

NaPoWriMo's 8th day prompt:

Write a poem that relies on repetition, of a phrase, or just a word.

*The pantoum is a poem of any length composed of four-line stanzas. In each stanza, the second and fourth lines serve as the first and third lines of the next stanza. The last line of a pantoum is generally the same as the first line.

Still a Tree - First published here

Hard to maintain? No!

Poinsettia Plant Leaf still remains...

When I bought you in full bloom in December 2015,
I had low expectations of how long we would share 
our lives together.

You continued to throw the fact—that you are 'hard to maintain'
completely
on its head.

You and your cheery red and green foliage
brought out a part of me that even spoke softly to you,
'How beautiful you look...'

Maybe, just the sound of my voice
captured your lifespan,
so you lasted—all year.

And when you finally faded,
I kept and pressed a few of your leaves
to keep the memory of you in tact ... never to die.

7th poem for NaPoWriMo2017

ⓒ Nicole Moore

NaPoWriMo's day 5 prompt:

Write a poem that is based in the natural world that you've personally experienced and optimally, one that you've experienced often. Try to incorporate specific details while also stating why you find the chosen place or plant/animal meaningful.

Seven Ways of Looking at Hands

I know I would be nowhere
with no hands, no lifelines to reveal
futures, life's expressions invisible,
No incredible, articulate moments.

Essential, responsible, hands matter
Men, women, children, babies
rejoice when hands hold, caress ... and direct an orchestra,
drive cars, buses, trains; fly helicopters and planes.

Hands—a pair with eight fingers, two thumbs
to adorn with jewels to signify status,
act as an invitation; as an exit strategy.
Are diamonds really a girl's best friend?

How is it that hands are enclosed
in a protective skin,
so as to keep out evil
and let good in?

But hands can slap, punch, and kill
swear and curse, with such dramatic appeal
that 'war' is the outcome;
peace the calm after the storm.

The artist, the pianist, the writer,
the musician, the singer, the dancer,
would turn mad, bad and dangerous to know,
without their hands, they'd have no place to go.

Hands are perfect; each finger print unique,
to keep a trace; a pattern,
there is no escape,
if you've abused their powers.

(6th poem for NaPoWriMo2017; first posted as 16th poem for NaPoWriMo2013)

ⓒ Nicole Moore

Today's NaPoWriMo2017 prompt is to write a poem that looks at the same thing from various points of view.

What Do You Love?

'Woman in Yellow Dress': Coloured pencil drawing by Nicole Moore

T(he)y tell me I can't wear bright colours. Who are those talking heads to tell me what I can and can't wear? Something about the stark contrast against my skin ... 'doesn't work' It works well for me. Oh and, 'Who do you think you are wearing that hat?' I'm at peace. Can you say the same? 

A breeze like the turn of a page keeps me poised on the might of the sea. I love my dress. I love my hat. What do you love?

5th poem for NaPoWriMo2017

(prose poem)

ⓒ Nicole Moore

Elegy for Adrian

Adrian Chambers, Italy, the 1980s.

I remember the first time I saw you
Your call and response failed five times
Until you managed to tap me on my shoulder
from the front room window

When I turned around and saw you
Your eyes threw me
We spoke gobbledygook 
as a way of tuning in

And when I asked you a random question—
'Do you drink or smoke?'
Your reply made me smile,
'No but I eat a lot of biscuits.'

And because it was easy to say it,
I asked, 'Any particular kind?'
And you said,
'Custard Creams.'

Your death remains a turning point
Our memories are safe
And We will always
share history.

4th poem for NaPoWriMo2017

ⓒ Nicole Moore

NaPoWriMo's day 3 prompt was an elegy, (I'm not sticking to posting in any particular order) 'but make it centred around something specific or unusual about the person or thing it's about'. I lost my partner Adrian in 1988 and our first meet, in 1980, will be something I savour as a special memory, but it's his confession about Custard Creams that will always make me smile!

Forever Breathing

Image from Pexels

I could be described as a sitting room
Yet I am much more
to the eyes that see
and those who live and love

For I can mirror beauty here
I am the faceless, silent witness
Forever Breathing within these walls,
contained I hold space

I feel those energies come, go, stay
I am the shadow at night
You choose the interior
but I am its ghosts

It matters not what shape I am in.

3rd poem for NaPoWriMo 2017

ⓒ Nicole Moore

Forever Solid

'Forever Solid': Coloured pencil drawing by Nicole Moore

Forever solid

waiting in vain for the sun

the moon will suffice.

1st poem for NaPoWriMo 2017

(Haiku Art)

ⓒ Nicole Moore

Spirit

 My Spirit was downhearted one day

By another low spirit who

had unwise words to say

to make the day - an unhappy one

No boosting my ego

just lowering my spirits

I'd forgotten, how bad it felt

it's been that long

Words can do such dastardly things

Words matter - they reach you on

high or low levels

They can lead us to terror - if we let them

Words can cut like swords

are capable of hate

and of love

of war and peace

Words can mean so much

and so little

without a high spirit talking

words just die.

The really great thing is
I am a free spirit!

(30th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Notes on Bob

Notes on Bob

Bob said it; and it can be read as pure poetry

'So Much Things to Say' (Exodus)

'So Much Trouble in the World' (Survival)

He drew his power

from the sprightliness of his music,

which belies the seriousness of the words

Not even a question of 

No easy answers as

No answers at all are

put forward here in this

bleak vision of the way things are

So Much Things to Say

Bob's faith in God sustained him throughout

and his music continues to up lift.

(29th poem for NaPoWriMo)

SKIN

SKIN 

She likes her skin’s light brown tone,

which darkens at the strength of the sun’s rays

deepening to a rich and darker brown along with a glossy look.

She feels wonderful in constant sunshine

merged with a glorious ocean breeze.

She likes all kinds of skin tones from darker to lighter hues.

Some don’t really see her; the kind of person she is.

They may have good eyesight and eyes that are blue, green or even brown 

but really they do not ‘see’ her.

Is it really all about her skin that she is living in?

A skin which she thought would keep her protected,

rather than exposed.

(28th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Less is More

A rare blessing

A loving kiss

A warm hug

A beautiful smile

(27th poem for NaPoWriMo)

She weaves her magic

She weaves her magic

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye
And up and down the people go,

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
By the island in the river

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerily

There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colours gay.

She has heard a whisper say,

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
Through the silent nights.

(26th poem for NaPoWriMo)

There are no foreigners, just travellers

There are no foreigners, just travellers

Carved up nation,

definitely a realisation

not a revelation, borders

lineage, edging away

keep us at bay

swimming or sinking.

Continents become countries

foreigners move freely –

some more freely than others

singing and dancing

internationally leaving their mark

as they trace and stamp their trade.

Where do you find yourself

within this vast cultural oasis?

Are you lost or are you found?

Does your ancestry;

your family tree

reveal who you really could be?

Or are you progressing nicely

Onward and upward

through the University of Life?

Do you want to swim with the dolphins?

Or Be a regular fish out of water

in a tropical fantasy land?

(25th poem for NaPoWriMo)

City Whispers

City Whispers

At this moment hundreds of travellers' feet hardly touch the ground

I know these faces, have dwelled in those places

I knew I had to visit the city

I had to taste and feel home

Even though open spaces attract me more – now

It's as if every so often

There's a need, a desire, call it a fix

To absorb the density, a familiar dynamic

And as I leave those wider landscapes

Quietly I observe sodden fields

As I sit in comfort on orange coloured train seats

The ticket collector is nowhere to be seen

I step into the familiar as I embark

The crowds haven't fully formed

So it's with ease that I don't have to wait

For a 73 bus and in 5 minutes I'm at the Angel

At this moment I recognise a collection of girls

From my old school; their uniform fails

To disguise their uniqueness and I'm

transported back to the sixties – to my love of Chapel Street's market stalls

I hardly bother with the market now,

Don't even take a look; there's no need

I'm drawn into NEXT and immediately hooked

I admire the fashion as it explodes colour and I'm warmed

I knew I had to be in the city today

To feel alive, to touch the energy once more and be seen

To linger in those places, see many diverse faces

And blend in again, to steal, to capture and then begin.

The spacious restaurant seating is selected

by the consumer in this half-full lunch time

And it is almost empty by the time I depart

Only to step opposite and discover a larger gathering

In the bar with its low almost dark shadow lighting

A variety of high and low seats

Here I feel right at home as there's room

For every kind of social experience

Women on their own watch plasma TV screens

Couples chit-chat, friends hang out,

Others are Wi-fi slaves to their laptops

A few are intensely holding on to and searching their mobile phones

There's a need to stay connected

By any means necessary

To this digital age, which

brings with it a new anxiety and individual responsibility

Glasses merge and chink, a sip of a drink

and chatter rises and dissipates

At this moment, there is a kind of new age dawning

And another day disappears with no warning.

(24th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Fear Nothing

Fear Nothing

Fear nothing, you already have

the courage to face and explore

accept and respond to fear so

fear nothing - you already have

to move beyond inertia

and discover your potential

Fear nothing, you already have

(23rd poem for NaPoWriMo)

Earth Day

Earth Day is 43 years old today

and I'm ashamed to say

it's not a day I've celebrated before

So today's a first

Let's remember 

we live on this wonderful planet -

sometimes, we just forget

as life's day-to-day distractions

get our attention instead.

(22nd poem for NaPoWriMo)

More Lines...

More Lines...

It's election time again; it's going to be a gamble either way.

It's true, labels mean nothing, but don't you fancy yourself in something Chanel?

Be caring to girls and women - this applies to other girls and women as well as boys and men.

Less really is more, so shut up and listen, oh and write everything down.

(21st poem for NaPoWriMo)

Inspired by Frank O'Hara's original poem, "Lines for the Fortune Cookies."