It’s been two years since I left my office-based career in the NHS well and truly behind me.  One of the first pieces of writing I completed at that time was a poem entitled Office Tick-tock. I was reminded of it again recently when, out of the blue, I received some lovely feedback from a poet in Louisiana. I thought it was due another brief moment in the spotlight of my blog.

Office tick-tock

Chit-chat, tappity tap.
Skirts flirting with shirts.
Geeks gazing at datasheets
 - the office is a buzz.

Kettles whistling, printers whirring,
'Go Slow' in the corner's stirring!
Footfall in the corridor.
We've all heard that clip-clop before.

Big bellied boss blusters in.
Brainstorm this.
Blue sky that.
Create, debate, update, regenerate.

Projected, rejected profit profiles.
We couldn't give a fax a-budget!
Everyone knows that management fudge it.

Tick-tock, as one we watch the clock.

Quick as a flash, people dash.
Files are filed.
Switches are switched.
Teacups flung, coats unhung.

Desks deserted.
The buzz, buzzed off.
Until tomorrow...
Tick-tock, tick tock.

Drifting

An old man sits
Dribbling; without shame.
His mind broken.
Thoughts drifting to memories cherished.
An onlooker stares; feels pity
The man smiles, happy just to be. 

An empty crisp packet,
Once pristine; now discarded, 
Dances on the breeze.
A hedge; a thorny web
Quivers, waiting to ensnare
This unsightly prey.

A lone cloud drifts.
Soundless; without purpose it seems.
A mistress to the whims of the wind.
A shape and form in constant flux,
Yet to the eye, a picture of
contented stability.

A corked bottle; messenger
Tossed to sea.
Left to Poseidon's mercy.
Bobbing; swirling; rushing.
Pulled inexorably to land.
It's ending uncertain.

In the sun's warmth a flower
unfurls; its petals inviting.
The wind comes to call.
Pollen dust wafts.
Destination somewhere; anywhere
By chance some will spark new life.

An iron gate held shut
By snow; an overnight drift
A collective of flakes.
The melt begins at pace
releasing the grass, yet
At the gate some flakes resist.

Balloons; helium pumped.
Released with excitement,
Watched with wonder.
A mass of colour set free,
Rising without limits.
An adventure lies ahead.

Haiku is a Japanese form of poetry. The idea, as I understand it, is to use just a few words to capture a moment and create a picture in the reader's mind. It is like a tiny window into a scene much larger than itself. The idea is not to tell/show too much.

Ideally, two different images will spark off one another and is some way there will be a relationship between them. At least, this is how I have interpreted everything that I have read on this!

Traditionally, haiku is written in three lines, with a 5-7-5 syllable structure.

There is often an emphasis on nature or the seasons but this is not a hard and fast rule.

So, here goes...

Dew drops held captive
Morning sun unforgiving
Weary man tilts hat

A fire breathes and chokes
Beautifully destructive
Waves on sandcastle

Fragments of time lost
Cool air still on mountain ledge
The circling begins

Whispers lost somewhere
Darkness descends over land
Fragile wings flutter

Autumn - the best time for a forest ramble.

I hope you enjoy my seasonal poetry offering.

Forest; unruffled

Red wellies leap, jump and kick.
Leaves stir from their slumber.
Fragrant odours of decaying mulch waft.
Bright sunshine smiles upon the delicious cold air.

Red mitts grab at low hanging branches.
Shaken leaves work loose; A few fall.
Delicately they somersault, softly they land.
Gentle winds caress the browning ferns.

Red hat catches on brambly undergrowth.
A startled squirrel reacts with agility and speed.
Birds twitter their displeasure. Swiftly they flap.
Delectable bonfire aromas infuse the forest air.

Red scarf flying, arms pumping, little legs stretching.
Soft sandy path angled in steep descent; enticing.
Joyous laughter reverberates. A dog barks.
The obliging forest; unruffled by it all.

A new addition to my poetry corner; a different style, darker in content than previous efforts but surprisingly fun to write! I just enjoyed using the imagery.

Acorn

Small, smooth, shining; beauty
understated.
An acorn becomes over time
unrecognisable.
Lost beneath its new bark skin.
Forgotten.

A woman sits beside a lake,
the shell of who she was
Upon the water, a shape
reflected. She stares.
The girl she knew just isn't there.
Her energy is spent.

Wart-like protrusions
deface.
Discoloured leaves shrivel.
The wizened oak stoops.
Scavengers await
the feast of decay.

Mid-life Crisis

I could go back the way I've come.
To the life I know.
To choices made so long ago,
But right now my limbs feel numb.

I could stand tall and march on
To who I used to be.
Seek out the spirit that dwells in me.
Buried deep but not yet gone.

I could venture to just anywhere,
To a place I do not know.
Risk it all to go with the flow
But really, do I dare?

I could descend the slippery slope
To a dark place that I know.
It's a place I do not want to go
But I am near to losing hope.
 
The place to go?
I think I know.
I could.
I should.

I have decided to add a new section to my website; a poetry corner. This is really just a bit of fun!

I hope that my first offering, Office tick-tock, will rattle off your tongue and make you smile. Best read aloud. 

Enjoy!

Office tick-tock

Chit-chat, tappity tap.
Skirts flirting with shirts.
Geeks gazing at datasheets
 - the office is a buzz.

Kettles whistling, printers whirring,
'Go Slow' in the corner's stirring!
Footfall in the corridor.
We've all heard that clip-clop before.

Big bellied boss blusters in.
Brainstorm this.
Blue sky that.
Create, debate, update, regenerate.

Projected, rejected profit profiles.
We couldn't give a fax a-budget!
Everyone knows that management fudge it.

Tick-tock, as one we watch the clock.

Quick as a flash, people dash.
Files are filed.
Switches are switched.
Teacups flung, coats unhung.

Desks deserted.
The buzz, buzzed off.
Until tomorrow...
Tick-tock, tick tock.