That title sounds like an intriguing police drama, with powerful acting from an ensemble cast to rival Orange is the New Black!
Alas, I am pitching a new TV show just yet. I have spent some time this afternoon pottering about my note books, trying to think new thoughts.
One of the strategies I use to get my creativity flowing is to try new forms (some of those experiments end up in this very blog!). Today I am uploading two poems…well worth your visit! The first offering is a tanka, a Japanese style that consist of 31 syllables over 5 lines. For more information check out: https://poets.org/glossary/tanka
The second poem today, which I feel is on more shaky ground, is the sestina. I found it hard to keep a cohesive narrative whilst adhering to the rules (the end words of each line are used repetitively in a specific sequence). The last stanza of 3 lines should contain all six words. The full ‘recipe’ is here: https://poets.org/glossary/sestina
So here goes, firstly the tanka.
Happiness The time we first met I felt the sun shine on me. The second time too! How could I have known that Such happiness would go on.
And now for the sestina….
Cigarettes, a brief autobiographical account I clearly remember that last cigarette: The way my lungs expanded. I let go of any attachment, any care, As the last line of smoke trailed away Becoming just a wisp of a memory. And that was the last time.
I am not sure about the first time I was passed any already lit cigarette. The details have faded from memory. I recall being eager to see my world expanded. So I packed my things and moved away Beyond the reach of parental control and care.
Living bullet proof, without a care I had youth and plenty of time. A couple of beers and we were away- Watching sunsets, reaching for a cigarette. University years - a young mind expanded (Some hard lessons burnt into my memory). And then things changed, from memory, When first came adult stress and care, Then responsibility and accountability expanded: Clock watching, doing battle with time, Burning out like a forgotten cigarette. I became jaded, my dreams wafted away. I didn't think I could give it away, Too much water under the bridge and memory With my one constant companion - my cigarette. Future health, what did I care? I needed something in that moment of time To fill my lungs, to feel expanded. But then fear arrived and it expanded New thoughts I could not push away, And for once I could be on borrowed time. I wasn't ready to become just a memory. All the wasted days, weighed down with care, The last thing I needed was to crave a cigarette. That short story expanded from a memory. Now my life is far away and what do I care Of the time I smoked my last cigarette.
Angele Toomey Poetry 