FOP #3

7.7 Category : nature

Whorls of bambooleaves zigzag
in the mountains - somewhere
a shadow sits - lonely pandabear
nibbles in the sun, except
all others are pawing
against the bars of a zoo.

7.8 Double Form - haiku

cabbages chatter
whilst tanning on their bellies,
a wind blew last night

moving the veggies
like chesspieces, positioned
where they could cluster

8.1 Must write a poem to yourself, or about yourself.

Drew faces on my fingers
and washed them away with tears -
this how history repeats:

self-help books enlist
more than 10 reasons to love myself,
and all I do is run into the rain
without an umbrella, hoping
to catch a cold, to compensate
with the coldness of my heart.

8.2 Must mention a member's username

She often reminded me of Melpomene,
as she sat there, fingers dancing
on ivory keys, and lips moving
to the melody, except, no sound
would flutter from her throat
like a thousand butterflies -
it only took one moment
to darken her eyes,
no decrescendo,
to soften
her loss.

8.3 War

At the vending machine, men queue,
in need of their Heineken beer,
so that they may rush back
to the television again,
following the news with fists
full of stress - as if they were
playing Call of Duty -
except, this is reality, and
their wives will not return
to clean up their peanut scraps,
to fall into rubble, like
the Boeiing did.

8.4 Poem must mention money, or a type of sport

During the World Cup, twenty men chase a ball
as girls and boys from overseas draw flags
on their cheeks and blow kisses in the camera.

In their homeland, flags rise proudly
and supermarkets prepare family sales
and the vagabond still sits in melancholy.

8.5 Wild card

I remember running up the evening-cooled dunes
of Gran Canaria, how I wore the flowered dress
that hung from every tourist shop,
but didn't feel cliche - on the contrary,
I felt like the only tanned 17 y.o.
kicking up sand, and the wind
especially steering it back into -my- face.

I couldn't help but laugh, then,
like finding seasalt after an afternoon
of floating in foreign waters,
placed neatly after evaporation.
I sometimes wish to laugh like that again,
even after discovering sand or salt
not filtered by my eyelashes.

8.6 colour + shape

Sometimes, I'm inclined
to arrange my smarties based
on their aura, and accumulate erasers
like pieces of rainbow-coloured Iglo, as if
I'm playing with lego, turning back
in time - where I could build my own castle
with rectangles only, and not worry
about the bills glaring red at me.

8.7 Nature

A baby's cry echoes
in the middle of the night,
as I sniff the air that cleanses
like green tea, reminding me
of sitting in the garden more often
and focussing on the sound
of chirping birds instead.

8.8 double form

double tetractys

cubes
stack up
like towers
that will soon fall
into the hands of a neatfreak like me,
who prefers row houses instead, stuffing
the room with hope
of building
a home
now

9.1 selfie

If the books I possess
reflect any of my personality,
then it must be empty, for
I never read any, except their covers,
full of lovelorn princesses from the far east,
as if collecting characters, would somehow,
wondrously, transmit their stories into me.

Somehow I'd prefer it that way,
despite the melancholy of calligraphing
on fans, and having no one
to even blink at the breeze
you send their way, because
men are used to being served in the sun.

9.2 username

Britt, I think she needs some sleep,
poor woman who guards us
when we, the silly Europeans,
cling
to our pillows, like koala bears,
probably too drunk on poetry,
whilst she catches words in her truck.

9.3 war

The only war I've ever known
is the one within myself,
thoughts against sleep,
impulse against head,
so I won't bother you
with apologies, for I can't,
I can't sleep, thinking about
amputees and rockets flying
into the sky with no intention
of litting up children's smiles,
as I lie here, insomniac,
beneath a roof, within
a blanket, curling
like a first-world refugee.

9.4 money or sports

A tornado of cash resides
inside of my bag, as I sit
in the rollercoaster, up-down,
left-right, almost inclined
to throw confetti around
as I pull a donkey-face
in front of the camera.

9.5 wild card

Plastic bag on the market place -
once held precious fruits, which in turn
held grandma's broken tooth, or two.

Her teeth are all gone now,
but the strawberries seem fresher
than ever, and she'd want me to take care

of my health, so I buy two bags
dripping with red juices, and visit her grave
with strawberries instead of roses.

9.6 colour + shape

Traffic light blinks red,
its circular shape resembling
a lunar eclipse.

But you didn't notice,
too busy holding your brakes
and texting that girl.

9.7 nature

From bird's-eye view, I can see
business men scurrying about
like flies with broken wings,

almost falling prey to the spider web
that gestures them to buy another
newspaper, use another umbrella.

9.8

double acrostic

Eventually, the stars will hide
'neath the never-ending heaven,
drowning in the idea of need.
It's then, that you'll drink Martini
next to your mannequin,
gingerly dreaming of your wedding.

10.1 To yourself or about yourself

Ironically, I write notes to myself
about how to shape my future poems
through poems.

10.2 Member's username

Darren's pen whizzes across
the page, ink flowing freely in a
poetic daze, rounds of prompts
dragging a tired FOP into
Thursday evening.

10.3 War

Prepare yourself for battle,
focus on the golden prize,
get your grip and take your stance
look your opponents in the eyes.
When the whistle goes, thats it!
Dig in your heels and pull,
One thing about a tug-o-war
is that its never dull!

10.4 Money or sport

Dipping, dodging, keep your feet!
The grass is slippy underneath,
hold on tight, two hands on the ball,
don't be afraid, you will not fall.
A gap appears, that's it, go!
The opposition are just too slow,
the try line approaches, its in the bag,
But wait! Oh no! I've dropped my tag!

10.5 Wild card

Rhyme has wiggled its way back
into the fabric of my words. It's
summer hibernation from
interactive whiteboards and wall displays
must be over again as Autumn
nears.

10.6 One colour and one shape

In a drowzy exam hall, in a maze
of numbers and letters and alien formulas
all I found myself trying to figure out
was why the triangles in each question
were all pink.

10.7 Nature

The smell of fresh cut grass
wafting through the air for the first time,
buds weighing down their branches and
the spill of yellow in the daffodil bed,
lambs bleating in the field beyond
the hedgerow and I know that Spring
is stretching her legs.

10. 8 Double Form

Chestnut foals gallop
after their mother's shadow
at the break of light.

Chestnut foals slumber
beside their caring mothers
at the break of night.

11.1 Poem to or about yourself

I cannot write a poem about myself
without fussing, interrupting my thoughts
and getting everything a little wrong. I
don't know myself well enough, I prefer
to take a bypass, a detour and instead
write around myself.

11.2 Members username

I often wonder what the D stands for
when I see the username
Michael D Nalley. It reminds me
of our hobbit-like president Michael
D Higgins. Mysterious letter D's,
David, Denis, Declan, Darren?
I have never been adventurous enough
to extend the hand of curious small-talk
and ask.

11.3 War

Bombings, gunshots, hatred
festering on each side and neutrals
looking at the ground all the while. People
have a special habit for not remembering
lessons learned 100 years ago almost
to the day.

11.4 Money or sport

Its funny how something we want
so much, we covet just so we can
give it away again.

11.5 Wild Card

An open canvas at this stage
is draining. Give me a half-completed
painting to finish, give me the dots
to fill in.

11.6 Colour and shape

What looks like a tiny silver dot
to a poet on a dark night is a giant
sphere of heat to somebody,
something, somewhere.

11.7 Nature

It is not in my nature to churn out
a hundred and something poems.
It is this small websites version of an
eclipse, except a lot longer,
and not spectacular... Ok so my
metaphor failed (again). If only it
were in my nature to fast-forward
months, years, and borrow the actual poems
I have not yet written.

11.8 Double form

Autumn leaves fall
to an ankle deep gander
of mulch-like humus.

Spring seeds germinate
in the same soil fertilised
by their ancestors.

12.1 Poem to or about yourself

I'm writing this poem to somebody to read
in ten years time. The person I am writing
to will read this with a wedding ring
on his finger. The paper upon which it
is printed will have a glob of baby-food
splashed in the corner. He will read it
in the study in his three-bedroomed house
surrounded by research material for his
soon-to-be published first book.
The person I am writing this to will look
in the mirror and hope above all that this
poem can still be true.

12.2 Username

I would hold your hand beyond the paradoxical
end of eternity, I would never leave your side
for a moment or a breath, my love I will love
you every day, all my days, 'til death.

12.3 War

I will only ever experience
bodies punctuated with gunshots
in the comfortable seat of a cinema.
I think.
I will only ever witness
explosions scattering rubble
from behind the lens of a tv show,
I hope.
I will only ever see
the filling of civilian graves
from the distance of my nightmares,
I pray.

12.4 Money or sport

The Olympic medal hanging around
his neck wasn't won when he stepped
into the ring for the final bout, wasn't won
when he landed the left hook. It was won
when he first walked into the boxing gym
13 years ago, it wasn't won when
he didn't go to Sarah Miller's house party
and get drunk, it was won when
he ran an extra mile when there was
nobody there to cheer, nobody there
to see.

12.5 Wild Card

The greatest spell in Harry Potter was
cast far away from the splendor of Hogwarts:
it was woven when a mother scribbled
in a corner of a coffee shop on her break
and reached into the hearts of millions
of muggles who could become
witches and wizards in the playground
of imagination.

12.6 Colour and shape

Rectangles and squares merge
in checkered co-ordination: the different
hues of green intersected by picture perfect
white lines, ready for the big match.