How We Forgive

Some forgive by sitting on the suitcase lid,
Forcing the jumble down ’til the catches click
And lop shouldered from their weight, cram it under the bed.

Some forgive by pulling the tiny pieces to pieces.
A post mortem scrutiny.
Then cremate it when they understand what the cause of death was.

Some forgive by stowing away the abuse,
Cling film wrapped for freshness,
To be dragged from the fridge for citation and later use.

Some forgive by taking time to cross examine inner thought.
Analyse, dissolve, debate, resolve
Publicised in an open session in court.

Some forgive with a childlike bundling smile,
If you ask me,
That takes real style.

Some do not forgive.
They carry it around like a sharpened hatpin
Waiting to push it in the eye of the person committing the sin.

Mobile telephones – poem

Mobile Phones – a midnight rant.
(freeform unedited poetry)

HEAD DOWN IN SHAME

    You tube, you porn, you rot away,
    Facebook, grace took, retina display.
    Google, gag on http and ham soup,
    Twit your brain down into gigabyte gloop

    Text, predictive,
    L
    O
    L
    Shorten bandwidth, broaden hell
    Favourites, email, apps, returned call
    Down will come handsfree (cradle and all)

    FaceTime,
    Not face to face time.
    Siri,
    Don’t say.
    Compete,
    Whine online.
    No conversation
    Or play.
    Blog,
    Rate,
    Like,
    Recharge
    And Bookmark.
    Kindle your fire
    (to read in the dark.)

    Tablets and handhelds and wifi and pics.
    Bluetooth and waterproof and camera clicks.
    Headaches and hand aches, rsi and no laughs.
    No bite, no water fights and no framed photographs.

    Just a retinal burn,
    The tired cursor, blinks and waits
    For your last clever blog,
    Your software updates.

    And you’ll sit,
    And you’ll sit,
    And you’ll wait for the beep,
    The sounds of your life
    That resounds in your sleep.

    A concoction of misery, an implosion of home,
    Look down, be ashamed of your mobile phone.

Laws of Blogging 3 – Copying

Not mine, but so good
My thoughts drip to flood
To copy you a poem from a worn out book.

It’s sad that I should plunder
Another cloud’s thunder
But my words are far too simple and easy to overlook.

For my words sometimes fail me
Or like fanfares can hail me
Mine – rhymes of flatlines, theirs – of how the earth shook.

But to impress you I lose
The desire to choose
To copy you a poem from a worn out book.

Laws of Blogging 2 – Why blog?

Snogging – never got one because of a blog (though a ‘like’ is almost as good.)

Flogging – few of us will ever make money at this (and there are a lot of dead horses on here too.)

Jogging – run through somebody’s mind all day by mentioning the muppet theme song so they can’t get it out of their head.

Clogging – hoping to clog up the Internet with our overbrimming verbosity.

Logging – a diary that anyone can read and misinterpret.

Dogging – a dodgy sexual practice here in England that I would neither condone or prohibit (and is very difficult in a mini – car or skirt – so I have heard!)

Hogging – filling everyone else’s inbox with rhyming trivial lists.

I’m out. Anymore?

The Best First page you have ever read?

First impressions count.

And, like it or not, people will consider whether or not they will like your work just by reading the first few lines.

With that in mind I would like to ask you Who wrote your favourite opening to a book / best first line?

I like Stephen King’s ‘The Body’ (Stand By Me) and Neil Gaiman ‘The Graveyard.’
Something about those two stories that means you have to carry on reading.

Interested in your comments.

It was the best of blogs, it was the worst of blogs…