The River of Stars

I lived beside a river of stars.

One day I saw a bird

fly into the water

and thought him dead. 

Then: a knock 

at the door, a place 

by the fire, three days 

without a word.

I fed him porridge oats 

and pumpkin seeds.

He sat by the window, 

looked up at clouds

with his black eyes.

Where are you from?

What can I give you?

No reply.

On the third night he set 

the moon in my hands,

wrapped in a tea-towel 

like a porcelain plate.

He opened his wings

and flew into the sky.

In dreams I followed him

along the blue road.

The stars lit my way,

shone with a gentle light.

I did not feel the cold.

And with me, the moon.

From NaPoWriMo: Today, I challenge you to take a chance, literally. Find a deck of cards (regular playing cards, tarot cards, uno cards, cards from your “Cards Against Humanity” deck – whatever), shuffle it, and take a card – any card! Now, begin free-writing based on the card you’ve chosen. Keep going without stopping for five minutes. Then take what you’ve written and make a poem from it.

dream of the daisies

crowding together

climbing together

piling on top 

on top of each other

to get to the sun

to get to the sun

yellow hearts

soft and furry

singing singing

we want to come close to you!

huddling together

white petals flapping

hearts sturdy and strong

climbing climbing

always striving

covering the grass

dreaming of the day 

of reaching the sky

making a chain

leading right to the sun

oldest friend

oldest friend

we want to come close to you!

huddling climbing

dreaming reaching

hearts sturdy and strong

until one day 

eating eating 

the big yellow sponge cake

the sun has been baking

all these years

up up up

inside the blue.

This poem came out of today's wonderful, spring-inspired workshop with Nichola Charalambou of Creative Writes. The writing was prompted by a photo of daisies on a sunny day...

Lottie Loves Cake

My young friend, the magical and creative Lottie, gave me a list of words to write into a poem. Her words are the colours of the rainbow and this poem is for her...

LOTTIE LOVES CAKE

Lottie loves cake.

She loves it so much that she eats it all day long.

For breakfast she eats Moon Cake,

silver and round and full of the wonders of her dreams.

For lunch she eats Sky Cake,

big and wide as the clear blue sky,

with puffy clouds of icing on top

and a bird or two for decoration.

For dinner she eats Jungle Cake,

a very exciting cake,

covered with great leafy plants and bright pink flowers.

It is also a very noisy cake, 

with tigers growling and parrots squawking.

When her friend, Matilda, comes over for tea,

they play the viola and sing songs about cake

such as "every cloud has some silver icing"

and "there was an old woman who lived in a scone".

They eat Rose Cake together and paint their nails the colour of Roses.

Sometimes, they magic the cake into a real rose.

Then Felix, the dog, runs around in circles 

trying to catch the rose with his nose, it smells so good.

Barack, the cat, sits like an emperor, 

calm and majestic, and sips milk from a golden bowl.

Lottie asks her brother, Louis, if he would like a piece of Rose Cake

but he prefers to run around chasing Felix

and, anyway, Louis loves ice cream.

The Staircase

The staircase 

appears

one day

bursts 

through

the middle

of Mrs Weinstein’s

pampas grass.

First one step 

sprouts 

then two.

It grows

towards

the sky.

By the end 

of the week

it has reached 

the sun.

No one knows 

what 

to do.

Then Benny 

her eldest 

starts 

selling tickets.

He has 

a fortune

to accrue.

What’s up there 

neighbours ask.

End of the world 

he replies.

I’d get there first 

if I were 

you.

To boost sales 

up he goes

with nothing 

but

a jacket and

a bagel 

or two.

From the street 

they watch

as he coils 

into 

the blue

becomes a speck 

disappears.

Suddenly 

everyone 

wants a ticket

wants to follow 

too.

So Jake

the second son

takes over 

family trade

he doesn’t want it

to fall 

through.

What’s up there 

neighbours ask.

Rubix the collie 

Grandpa Max

Grandma Sue.

He says, 

I’d get there first 

if I were 

you.

The street

is one big

spiralling 

queue,

caterers set up 

a marquee

offer fresh 

baked bread 

and stew.

Reporters

bring their own

news crew  

ask Jake:

Are you 

the brother 

of the hero guy

who pioneered

into the sky?

That’s all Jake 

needs to hear

to get him up 

those stairs 

too.

What’s up there

neighbours ask.

But Mo

the youngest

prefers his dreams

has no mind 

for ticket schemes.

Most of the street

he says.

My brothers 

too. 

Other than that

I haven’t

a clue.

He says, 

I’d go home 

if I were 

you.

When they insist,

he let’s them 

travel free.

And off they go

in two’s 

and threes.

Kids rest 

on shoulders 

sleeves flap

like wings 

in the breeze.

So many 

people 

walk 

into the sky.

None return

from out of

that blue.

I shouldn’t 

have taken up 

gardening,

Mrs Weinstein

cries.

I think my heart 

will break 

in two.

Morning

Slowly it begins:

the sun wafts into the garden,

drips green onto the moss,

trails gold along the stone.

The bush funnels up the shade

where it will wait out the day.

Before long, the terrace shines white,

blinds the opening of windows.

The shingles crumple and shift

in the unfamiliar heat.

Umbrella tops drip with bamboo.

Pipes rumble and run along the walls,

the taps accelerate,

the drains burble

with rust-berries and fallen leaves.

Twigs twist out of charcoal bags

and the fences crowd with doves.

Our ladder climbs up! up!

into the hangout of the crows.

But those old birds don’t care;

they are dining on last night’s dreams.

Aerials rake the clouds,

harvest the songs and signals

out of the bluebell sky - 

and the wheel of the morning 

flies open.