Wasn't planning on sharing this one, when I wrote it. I was planning, instead, to write a new poem (perhaps a sestina?) on the same theme, but using various references to Doctor Who instead of the references used loosely here. But on re-reading it four months after writing, I'm fairly happy with the way this flows.

A bunch of terza rima once again... )
There, new poem for the first time in a couple of months. Since May, I think. Of course, it is a poem I started back in March. But still new.

Back in March I was arguing with someone who was being all Wrong On The Internet. Hours of pointless conversation later, I realised that time would have been better spent putting my thoughts into verse. And promptly started to do so (but less promptly finished.)

I'm not happy with it; there are too many unspecific pronouns, and the verse distorts the argument rather than supporting it. For a start. But it's done, and not complete rubbish, I think. I do like the eighteenth line.

Thirty three lines about an article I read, once. )
So I just handed in a thousand word paper that I'm pretty much ashamed of. Ashamed of because it was crap, not because it was late - it was that too, but not by much. It was late (in part) because I spent most of the day it was due trying to finish a poem. Which started out nice and vague and non-specific and then got way personal and about me and yeah, also crappy. Another thing to be somewhat ashamed of.

When I did finish it I knew it wasn't one I'd be sharing. And I realised there are a whole lot like that. I've written more than double the poems this year than I've put here. Looking at this little selection it's not even clear that most of the poems I write are terribly angsty and romantically themed (which was maybe a good thing?) and so I decided to fix that. Here is one such poem from about a year and a half ago. A poem that I'm not ashamed of.

Warning: slight chance of angst )
Sure it's a couple of hours early, but what the hell. This one is for today / tonight.

The clock ticks over once again, another day is here.
And yet another day is gone, gurgled down the drain.
The countdown ends, the fires bloom, we mark it with a cheer:
the clock ticks over once again

As fireworks fade we can still hear that 'Auld Lang Syne' refrain:
This isn't just another day, it is a brand new year.
New decade too, a cleaner slate, and so we make it plain

how we expect to change ourselves, with all of these sincere
things we resolve, or insincere ones that we merely feign
that we will do. But either way there is no need to fear,
the clock ticks over once again.



February 2013



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