My NaPoWriMo 2022

A night at the theatre, a performance with spotlighted sign language interpreter. Some in audience leaning forward in seats, deaf people looking to each other, as face-to-face as they can. As they wait they talk, for all around to watch. Ever since learning to sign, I find, my eyes are drawn to others, when nearby, using British Sign language of the deaf community: watching, marvelling at their speed of thought, transferred to speed of sign, speed of reception of reply and gleam of understanding in their eyes. Easy eavesdropping when you know how; remarking on such a lyrical, idiomatic language, watch painting pictures with their hands, the space in front of them their canvas; dexterous, creative finger painting with intricate finger brushing; the torso is the frame, not to constrain, only give freedom to express with heart, emotion, every sign carrying feeling as well as meaning. They are magicians drawing spells from the air to disentangle words, reform themselves into picture perfect paragraphs which they cast that only others with knowledge of their craft can feel the effect. The theatre has a musical with dance being performed, movement to music, vibration the medium felt by anyone who can’t hear, hearing words through the flow of interpretation, itself an exhibition of visual melodic grace. I watch a couple close, his kiss of the tips of the fingers of his right hand which he explodes then as a spark, the sparkle of the: “you are beautiful!’ finished pointedly to her, he says. “Who, me?” she points at herself, sweeping her hand from there up her face as if to hide her features, shaking her “plain, me!” head in her signed reply (though her smile shows the universal sign of demure, approval). It is at this expression of intimacy that I withdrew my attention, for sake of their privacy, but not my fascination and admiration of the craft.

Are they just pinstripes, bow ties and top hats? 

narcissists making money and that’s that! 

by arrogance of their station 

developed their glorious corporations 

is that now why they’re called corporate fat cats?  

1 If random doesn’t come naturally

2 use a sequence to select:
3 let your guide be Fibonacci
4 first a favourite book of your choice
5 the cover is zero
6 first word page one
7 next word page one
8 and on to second word page two
9 and so on until you have a dozen
10 these words are your sunflower seeds
11 words to plant to see your poem grow
12 plant them in lines in the finest soil
13 give them plenty of water
14 fertilise them naturally with spoken words
15 put them in sunlight
16 let this develop its golden meaning
17 hypnotic patterns that swirl and turn
18 poetic in your head
19 emerging to follow the sun
20 more poems grow to sow

  It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been

one of the Olympic sports that it chose:

like the hundred and thirty-three piki dash

or the discus or the javelin, it’s arms wide

enough to miss the horns; anyway

it could have picked up a racquet

whole host of sports then with a ball:

racquet… squash even tennis would suit

a temperament for a McEnroe challenged line call!

But no, it had to choose water skiing

that’s about as complicated as it could get

not just balancing what it carries on its head

but propelling the weight of a Minotaur when it’s wet!

‘Longer skis are a must,’ said Daedalus,

that is, when he could be prized away

from inventing secretly in the wings with Icarus,

and it took all of his skills in calculus

developing a rope that was strong but as thin as string.

Yet the most challenging part was out on the water

and they trained long and hard for the task

of how to propel a barge fast enough

to tow three hundred and fifty pounds

of half man and half bull!

The navy admiral coaxed and cajoled the oarsmen

offered them all kinds of perks and raised pay

plenty tried but all too often were too few or too weak

which is why, so history says, the trireme was invented

it’s three banks of oars were itself quite the sight

and more-so with crossing its wake the Minotaur

one handed saluting mooing its delight in full flight! 

Sitting on the clouds of waking dreams—
see stretched before my eyes
the battle royal armed and set
 

the army of Night stretched on dark fields—endless
it’s infantry of sleep soldiers sure but sore-footed
flanked by nightmare berserkers who stop at nothing to remain
 

the charioteers of the moon and stars abound
pacy, racy their spears of white shining bright—
no cunning Trojan device for this army of the Night

pitted against the approaching divisions of Day
defenders of light crossing the horizon to the east
flying flags and below banners of the rising sun
 

formed in fields of rank and files
forlorn hope—phalanx of fighters to the fore
no fighting withdrawal intended only frontal assault
 

Helios at their head—shining chariot wheels flash
mounted Eos and Electryone bringing forth the way
for Hemera once more to carry the rule of Day

my woken eyes can only take in so much of the scale
of this frontal assault by strong opposing forces
as sunlight forges forward into victory
 

lighting fires that drive back Night’s might
no match for light in this morning’s fight
retires to tend wounds before regroup—rejoin
the battle royal in later hours with Day to share the spoils

  Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth
Look up here, I'm in heaven
And the stars look very different today
And mountain magic heavy hung
 

He speaks of senseless things
Spend some time together
As they try to change their worlds
The sun machine is coming down
 

He'd like to come and meet us
He’s chameleon, comedian, Corinthian and caricature
Time, he's waiting in the wings
I gazed a gazeless stare
 

But I put my face in tomorrow
I've borrowed your time and I'm sorry I called
Strap me in the dark, let me disappear
After today - fortune then will find you