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| After Stories | |
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| Topic Started: Oct 7 2009, 10:25 PM (21 Views) | |
| Lykaios | Oct 7 2009, 10:25 PM Post #1 |
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I wrote this for the National Poetry Day competition at my college. The theme was 'Heroes and Heroines' and I usually hate working anything to a theme, but I found this surprisingly easy to write. My teacher helped me tweak a couple lines when I handed it in, but there hasn't really been any major edits. It's not meant to be overly complicated or anything, but I'd love some help with rhythm and stuff if anyone's good with that because I don't really understand how that works. xD After Stories I wait every morning – watch the sun beam stray trickles of warmth over the rooftops, like a creeping peachy ocean – for your snoring to fade into a smile, a kiss, instead. You eat like a monkey. Breakfast crumbs and mess orchestrate the kitchen ensemble. Scruffier than the kids, my man is, when Monday calls him away. Late again. With hair as fine straw, whipped by tossing sleep, shoelaces tracing shadowed patterns in the frost, shirt hanging – a missed button – why, did your mother forget to dress you? Sable-ink hands return for tea – up, wash – now! Still grubby, says our son. He colours his hands with felt tips as the box screams reality. You pop a can, roar with the boys, teach Sally-Ann to say ‘Daddy’, and smile, proud as punch, at her bubble-raspberries. No help, husband, you’re too intoxicated by the spin of colours in the washing machine – the darks mixing with bright cadmium hues. Bedtime stories are a shambles of excitement, and you forget to be firm with the wardrobe monster. Late – the moon’s high – small as a marble left on the floor. This is our time together, entwined between the arrows of our days, pulling tight the hands that join us, round, round. In these wonderful moments, imperfection makes me long for the morning when I’ll watch you wake, my lover, my husband, my chaotic hero. Lykaios - LK - 28/09/09 EDIT: I won the competition!
Edited by Lykaios, Oct 9 2009, 09:23 PM.
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6:49 PM Nov 23
