Terrible Daily Poems

Patricia Finney
Every morning I write a poem to warm-up my brain. Quantity gets you quality.
Created 05 Aug 2021
  • Fog
    19 Nov 2021 • < 1 min read
    Somebody spilled milk into the bowl of the world. Or a cloud got lazy and slouched down To loll on the sea and spread out, Sighing at not having to stay up in the sky, Wrapping boats in cottonwool, Me...
  • September Evening
    18 Nov 2021 • < 1 min read • 2 0
    Our star is sinking into a grey-mauve pad of cloud. The screams and miaows of the gulls are echoed By the shrieks of children, incomprehensible and loud. The little houses are settling down for the ni...
  • Nope. Nothing.
    17 Nov 2021 • < 1 min read
    I can’t think of anything to write today. It’s funny. My brain is perfectly OK. My tum’s ok, my heart’s ok. It’s just nothing’s popping up today… Like a rainbow submarine from the Beatles, Surfacing l...
  • Interview with a young herring gull
    16 Nov 2021 • 1 min read
    “Yers, I fell off the crag, didn’t I? When I was really young, before I had feathers. Slipped, rolled down the cliff, missed the stones And somehow landed on soft grass. Everything hurt, specially my ...
  • Swimming in the sea
    15 Nov 2021 • < 1 min read
    I’m swimming in the sea in the dawn, The water salty and smoothly rippled; I’m astonished that I’ve learned not to fear cold water: Thirty seconds of “Aargh, get me outa here!” Followed by a buzz that...
  • Apologies to William Butler Yeats
    12 Nov 2021 • < 1 min read
    I cannot arise and go now, much less to Innisfree, Nor a small cabin build there of clay and wattles laid: Maybe a tent or a caravan or a nice Airbnb, And I’d be alone in the quiet glade. * And I woul...
  • Pagan prayer
    11 Nov 2021 • < 1 min read
    All praise to you, Unconquered Sun! All praise, all praise, our closest star. Without you we are nothing, ended, done. Without you we are a ball of ice. We roam the fields of space, rocks and dust, Sp...
  • Singing
    10 Nov 2021 • < 1 min read • 1 0
    I haven’t sung for 18 months, Except the occasional Jolene! or rude folk song. My vocal chords are weak And wobble if I don’t concentrate. No choir practice. Not even singing along To terrible radio p...
  • Sword of Light
    09 Nov 2021 • < 1 min read
    The Sun peered over the hill, Drew a sword of light And stabbed me in the chest. The sky cupped the land In blue glass edged with gold And stole my breath. The land slept under its blanket Of trees an...
  • Worry sorry
    08 Nov 2021
    I’m sorry, Lady, sorry for all the death I cause. I’m sorry my car still burns petrol And my central heating is gas. I can’t afford a heat pump or an electric car. I’m sorry sorry sorry that I don’t k...
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