CameraDave.co.uk

For some reason or other after not writing any poetry for close to six months (German punk songs don’t quite count as poetry) I have picked up the pen once more and produced a few random pieces over the last couple of days to help stave off the boredom of work.

As usual quite a few of the pieces are short and haikuesque, with my humour (or lack of it present). More unusually are a couple of slightly longer pieces, the inspiration for which came from competitions on Allpoetry.com.

an ever youthful girl
slumbering peacefully
surrounded by lilies

—

conducting the ceremony
the pastor reassures others
whilst questioning himself

—

rain falls
expunging blood
where someone slipped

—

living it large
the worlds smallest man
celebrates record

—

Audience and critic combined,
I perform even when alone.
Pulling faces at myself-
In the mirror.
Reflecting, for my own pleasure,
Instead of always keeping a straight face,
To the amusement of others.

—

Here I sit,
Admidst the remnants of my life,
Collated into just 32 photo albums-
Not even an album per year.
But then again I never did like,
How I looked in photos.

It’s strange, looking at faces,
That I can no longer name-
The memories blurred,
Like the faces that belong,
To the names I can remember.

The face in this picture,
Once belonged to me-
The face, like time has passed,
But unlike the memories,
My smile hasn’t faded.

When chatting with friends I have a habit of linking things together quite randomly, if not always altogether appropriately.  Earlier this week it say me attempting to pen a song on entitled, “Anything Could Happen, But It Probably Won’t.” A title which came about though the idea about how people seem to expect the worst to happen, but in reality for most people at least nothing ever does.

An example would be the hysteria about children playing in the street, where if you believe the tabloids they’re certain to be run over by cars, abducted by paedophiles or meet some other equally unpleasantt fate. I am not saying this doesn’t occur, but in reality (thankfully) it doesn’t happen that often. Amongst the doggeral I produced for this song to illuminate the risks of the road I wrote:

If you let your kids out on the street.
They’ll run out in the road,
And get squashed flatter than a toad.
By a car that’s doing ninety,
In a 30 mile zone.

Today’s challenge however was a little different. Last night whilst watching Glastonbury on the TV the phrase, “Ich bin ein Berliner” came up and for some reason I figured that there was probably a song or songs in it and so I decided that at work today I was going to attempt to write a song in German with that as a title.  The results so far include:

Die alte Leute sagen -
“Mann ist, was man isst!”
Ich bin überzuckert,
Aber voll von scheiss.

Ich bin ein Berliner,
Ungesund und fettvoll.
Aber es sorgt mich nicht -
Weil, um faul zu sein ist toll!

Ich hab’ Energie genug,
Zu feiern durch die Nacht.
Doch frag’ mich zu arbeiten,
Dann hab’ ich keine Macht!

Or for those of you that cannot read my dodgy German (Shame on you!) the translation runs roughly as follows:

The old people say -
“You are what you eat!”
I am sugar coated,
But also full of shit.

I am a doughnut,
Unhealthy and full of fatt.
But it doesn’t worry me -
Because being lazy is great!

I have enough energy,
To party through the night.
But ask me to work,
And I have no strength.

I currently have the fortune to be working from 2:30pm until 11pm on a Sunday evening at the ‘lovely’ call centre where I work, I agreed to this for one reason only - It’s probably the quietest shift of the week and anything that minimises the number of callers I have to speak to is good thing and it’s not as if there is much on TV on a Sunday night to stay in for.

There are two reasons why I have been answering on average 1.5 calls an hour today as far as I can see:

• Who in their right mind uses a Sunday evening to phone up things like brochures and store opening times?
• And even if they did think to do so* who in their right mind would think that such lines would be manned at 13:30pm on a Sunday night?

So what have I been doing to pass the time?  Along with the usual Internet browsing and reading a book I borrowed from a friend earlier to help keep boredom at bay, I have indulged another little hobby of mine that I haven’t indulged for a little while…

POETRY!

I haven’t put any up her for a while and I felt it was a little overdue so here are the results of what happened when I got the old creative juices flowing…

Ardent passion, rising higher and higher,
Consumation in flames of desire.
A pyromaniac’s first love.

—

stooping the executioner
pauses to mop his brow
before reaping the harvest

—

a forgotten secret
covered by dust
awaiting discovery

I have even entered a poem into a contest. The contest is a haiku writing contest and for some reason I decided an eclipse would make a good subject for one:

brilliance eclipsed
for a few minutes
by a jealous sister

I have also had an idea for a poem called Call Centre Drone, but that is a work in progress so you’ll have to wait to see that one I am afraid.

*Although if they are crazy enough to to phone up on a Sunday at 10pm then they are probably crazy enough to expect someone to answer.

For some reason last night at Glamorgan I wound up talking about how I had once written a love song for someone and they could still remember the words 6 years later and as a direct consquence of this I wound up agreeing to write something for them.

Now seeing as I got their name wrong last night when chatting to them I figured that if I was going to be writing them a love song or poem I should find out a little about them and so I got her to send me a text message of random stuff about her to inspire me (and of course this was a really good way to get her number!)

The message she sent me read:

I like getting +naked, I like tomato sauce, I’m the nicest person I know, Where I come from everyone is related by blood or marriage.I used to have a job as a cleaner. I’m in uni for a good time, not a long time.

So here is my ode to Miss W…

This saucy minx,
Will drive you wild,
‘Cos she’s a whole lot of woman,
Not an innocent child.

In days gone by,
She was a cleaner,
But now she’s filthy -
I know I’ve seen her!

Out on the dancefloor,
Shaking her stuff,
And of getting naked,
She can’t get enough.

I haven’t seen that,
But I’m willing to bet,
That I should really be saying,
That I’ve not seen it YET!

Most of the following ideas are rejected ideas for a contest that I saw that gave me a load of ideas although I could only enter two, the idea was to create a haiku that uses word play such as (which I have entered:

everybody’s here
to play cards-
full house

—

age old and weary
weathering the storms
the mountain stands still

—

the drowned man
lies at rest
in sheets of water

(more…)

Unlike a few weeks ago when to fill time at work by having a “Haiku Hour” I was actually bored today and started making note which some might call “poetry” - For anyone inclined to be critical of the following stuff please do note the fact I have used the word poetry in quotation marks.

Bloom a memory
The rose sheds crimson tears
For fading beauty.

—

I care not for caring,
But I do care nonetheless -
For you at least.
Though you,
Do not care for me.

—

On edge,
Spinning around -
In circles.
A decision,
To be made.
I call, “Tails!”

—

The silent moon is shattered,
By a well aimed rock -
Thrown into a pond.