False Faces

A Happy Sideboard

I found this article today, not that there was anything particularly deep in it – it’s the part of the BBC that’s aimed at younger consumers – but because this started to become a prompt for future poems about a month ago, when I started noting down the faces/images I perceive.


I’ve got a wonderful flowery duvet cover packed full of interesting faces or shapes including a canine pirate, an opera singer and a blood red rabbit on a broomstick heading straight for the void. But for now, it’s a work in progress.

This morning I saw a beautiful panther in the bathroom tiles, a reflection of the top layer of the open wash basket.

And of course, I can always rely on the sideboard drawers to cheer me up!

If you have any of your own, I would be delighted to hear.

Inanimate Wonder

No relevant picture today, part of the fun is to decide what the subject is.

One thing that I have begun to appreciate over the time I have engaged with poetry writing, is how my pattern of thinking has altered.

For instance, the poem I have written today is about an everyday, inanimate object. On face value the object is pretty dull, but then I started to think about it in a more abstract way, still staying within the bounds of reality with respect to its function.

I was really surprised by some of the observations that I made. This is my first draft, the issues that arose suggest that I may want to return to work on it.

Inanimate Wonder

If you’re searching for an absolute

I respectfully suggest

You move on pretty quickly

I cannot fulfil your quest

Unquestionable simplicity

A myriad of returns

Catalyst for emotions

Checkpoint for concerns

I’m Binary yet Analogue

If the former be state nought

Your presence is most welcome

Precursor to consort

In that state it can be argued

That I don’t exist at all

Yet I remain entire and true

Steadfast inside a hall

My default state is one of course

Otherwise I pointless be

It’s when I’m most obstructive

Privacy a guarantee

I won’t move without a summons

To rotate around my joints

Any value up to ninety

Degrees of the compass points

Over here I’d rotate southward

If we’re together in one plane

But in Sweden to the contrary

Northward as the weather vane

The more I think about me

The greater my self esteem

I’ve become quite the enigma

Contemplating my whole being

And you too can get more value

Building on this inspiration

So much more than meets the eye

Worthy of more cogitation