To Cherry Blossom

The cherry blossom is out in my garden, and as we enjoy its brief moment of splendour, I can think of no better excuse for some “proper poetry”. So, here’s my tribute to spring’s most fabulous diva.

To Cherry Blossom

Vain cherry blossom, loud and peacock-proud,
You flutter at the oak tree with disdain,
His spring display is workaday and plain,
Whilst yours draws veneration from the crowd.
You flourish and you flaunt – your fans are wowed –
It seems you’ve won spring’s pageant once again,
But soon, and with a showman’s sigh of pain,
You’ll make them weep – you’ll tumble to the ground.

Yet I’ll not cry – just as, I must confess,
I won’t mourn midnight fireworks, come the dawn,
Or grieve the short life of a wedding dress.
Like gorgeous gift-wrap chosen to impress,
Your brevity’s no burden to be born –
No, therein lies your true seductiveness.

 

© Nina Parmenter 2018

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Underwear

Gah! Beware! Half-naked lady! And she ain’t no spring chicken…

Underwear

Prancing around in my underwear,
Carefree, with clothes cast asunder, there’s
All sorts of scares lurking under there –
Yippee! I’ll get them all out!

Watch out, I’ll give you an awful fright,
Dancing, half-naked in your full sight,
This is such fun – and it’s lawful right?
Waving my wobbles about!

Once I was gorgeous and glamorous
Naked, I’d make the boys amorous
Now I look frankly cadaverous
Bits falling off all around

Dimply bits, crinkly bits, hairy bits,
Flabby bits, saggy bits, scary bits,
Here! Have a look – even stare a bit –
Some bits hang down to the ground!

Waggling to waltzes and minuets
Have I put fear of God in you yet?
No? Then just watch as I pirouette –
Front bits fly round to the side!

Yay! Let’s go frighten the town today,
Let all our fun bits hang down and sway,
Wiggling, wiping our frowns away,
Flashing with passion and pride!

 

© Nina Parmenter 2018

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I Don’t Do Crosswords Any More

I used to love a crossword. Particularly a (simple) cryptic one. I found immense satisfaction in filling in each expectant little square within that pleasingly symmetrical grid.

In the last few months, since my poetry binge started, I have often thought how, in many ways, writing poetry is very much like doing a crossword. The satisfaction of fitting the words, the rhythm, the theme and the form together – it’s like perfectly populating a pesky little puzzle.

But poems… they are so much more than a flawless fit. They are three-dimensional, coloured, living, opinionated little creations. Yes. They are better than crosswords.

So I don’t crosswords any more. Well. Maybe the odd one.

I don’t do crosswords any more

I don’t do crosswords any more,
I used to, endlessly –
They’ve lost their lustre, lack allure –
Compared to poetry.

Goodbye, small squares – I’m now just bound
by rhythms, born of passion,
No “down” to fit “across” around –
Just searing rhymes to fashion.

There is no grid; the form I choose
will guide each new creation,
My words are no more shaped by clues –
Just wild imagination.

And even when a puzzle’s filled –
It’s lifeless; black and white,
With poems, I make magic, build
great vistas, paint them bright.

The similes, the metaphors,
The adjectives that zing,
A stunning sound, a pregnant pause —
The words wake up – and sing!

So now, my lines can laugh, or smile,
Or cry, or trill with pleasure –
A puzzle’s joy lasts just a while…
A poem’s lasts forever.

 

© Nina Parmenter 2018

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Nevermore

I am blessed with two children, and that’s the family I always dreamed of. But  it does seem like only yesterday that starting a family, being pregnant, the whole baby thing – well, it was all an adventure that lay ahead of me. And now, it’s all behind me.

And I think it’s OK to ponder on that, without everyone hollering “Ooooh do you want another one then?” No, I don’t. But yes, just sometimes, I feel a little wistfully sad that that phase of my life has gone by.

Nevermore

Nevermore the swell beneath my fingers,
Nevermore the flutters in my core,
Nevermore the secret smile that lingers.
Once, my womb bore nothing but potential,
Now it’s finished, done, inconsequential,
Nevermore to matter, nevermore.

Nevermore the sleeplessness that floors me,
Nevermore the ligaments so sore,
Nevermore the nausea that gnaws me.
Once, the humdrum hit a strange hiatus,
Once I was cocooned by special status,
I’ll nevermore be special, nevermore.

 

©️ Nina Parmenter 2018

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Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

Above The Crowd

Just a little burst of joy…

Above The Crowd

Just sing your way above the crowd –
You’ll soar beyond their latitude!
Sing out, be happy, and be proud.

Just sing! You’re way above the crowd,
who snigger, while you sing out loud,
and mock your cheerful attitude.

Just sing – your way! Above the crowd
you’ll soar, beyond their latitude!

 

©️ Nina Parmenter 2018

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Photo by Ryoji Iwata on Unsplash

Showdown!

There’s a rumble down at the old folks’ home…

Showdown

It’s time for a showdown!
I’m taking that ho down!
Screamed Dotty, crouched low down, fists ready to fight,
Then she pounced upon Martha,
Who’d stolen her Arthur,
And after, had laughed at her pitiful plight.

At their care home, Sea View,
As old Martha well knew,
The men were too few – well, in fact there was one!
Arthur’s love life was crazy –
he’d dabbled with Daisy,
Then Mavis, then Maisie, then Dot came along!

Martha flipped! With a whip,
And a click of her hip,
She landed a kick at the base of Dot’s spine.
Dotty reeled, back she wheeled!
Martha squealed, “Yield, bitch, yield!”
But Dotty yelled, “NEVER! Cos Arthur is mine!!!”

Dotty stood rocking,
In surgical stockings,
While Martha, still mocking, stared straight in her eye,
Dotty charged like a tank,
And delivered a spank,
To the flank of the skank who had taken her guy!

With a fine rugby tackle,
Deployed with a cackle,
Martha managed to whack all Dot’s teeth on the floor,
Riled and gummy,
Dot sold her a dummy,
Then landed a scrummy left hook on her jaw!

Martha, a-glimmer
With rage, grabbed a zimmer,
Dot’s chances grew slimmer – she backed off with dread,
Martha slipped on spilt tea!
Smack! The zimmer broke free,
And with hollers of glee, Dot sat down on her head!

“Surrender!” she cried,
As she sat there astride,
With her wide underside squashing Martha’s smug face,
“OK!” muttered Martha,
All muffled, “Keep Arthur!”
Then Dotty discharged her in utter disgrace.

With joy and with laughter,
Dot went to find Arthur,
But Arthur was faster than Martha or Dot,
She found him entwined,
With Matilda who whined,
“He just needs someone kind!” But a slap’s what he got.

Dot and Martha soon swore,
A swift end to their war,
Then they knocked Arthur’s door – just to make some amends.
And Arthur’s reaction?
“Hey girls! Double action!”
So now he’s in traction. And they’re best of friends.

 

©️Nina Parmenter 2018

Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

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