#6 Tart

I love me a good tart,
Soft
Warm
Inviting

Never fails to
Make me
Smile
Sweet
Sensuous

Give me joy
Give me longing
Give me indulgence

Oh wait? You were referring to the dessert?

Sorry I was thinking of something else

#7 Stomp

Angry voices
Separated by
Thick cold walls

Hostile words
Hurled at the door

Forceful stamps
Echo

Hollow
Metal
Heavy

Up the stairs
Slam the door

Stormy weather
Stay indoors

#6 Tart

All I can think of
That rhymes with

Tart
Is
Fart

*
Spoonfuls of sugar
Many stirs in the pot

And many more stirs
A mash of soft fruit

A layer of pastry
A layer of butter

Many watering mouths
And a scoop and two
Of ice cream and
More cream

This sounds like pie
But it really is not

A tart is a tart
And it will be gone

Before you find out
That it really is not!

#5 Ink

Against fingertips
Black, green and blue

Tracing with lines
Your story and mine

Shut in a book
A menagerie

Of words
Of thoughts
Of ideas
And secrets

Also of stories untold

The ink that colours
Myself with words
Is black
And blue
And sometimes green too

#4 Foam

Warm sand
Sunken footprints
Cool waves
Curling at my toes

Pipis hiding
Tiny crabs melting
Into the holes
Covered by the tide

Soggy sand
Fading footprints
Receding waves
Pulling at my toes

Pipis revealed
Tiny crabs scuttling
Out of holes,
Fizzling foam

#3 Bottle

A thread of thought
A glint of hope
A simmer of anger
A wishful dream

Strands of colour
Grains of soil

Always filling
Yet so draining

Another strand
Make room for more
Brimming over
Bubbling noises

Pour it out
Pressure is high
No one hears it
Don't let it break

#5 Ink

A poem I could write with some ink
Just give me the weekend to think
But it has to be said
I ain't gonna be paid
So this deal's beginning to stink

#4 Foam

Awaken! Says the soap
Your time is come

Awaken! Cries the water
For there is much to do

Awaken! Roars the party
The new year cometh

Awaken! Sighs the sea
The shore beckons

Awaken! Rants the madman
My mouth is quivering

Awaken! Yells Styro
The kids need to do a project

#3 Bottle

Hello
I am trapped
In a very small place

Surrounded by water
No hope of escape

Each day the sun rises
And falls
On where I'm at

On occasion a gull will
Fly overhead
Peering quizically at me
For I am an anomaly

How long will I be able to
Survive here?

Will the waters
Overwhelm me?

Somebody come to retrieve me fast

I hate glass

#2 Telephone

It all began one fated day
When mobile phones were in demand
Every boy would hope and pray
For one to fall into his hand

In his phone was built with pride
A camera shiny and new
All others phones would sheepishly hide
For photography they could not do

"You call that piece of junk a phone?"
He said with evident glee
"Mine is better in style alone
Yours is primitive scree"

"Well let us have a bet" said I
"To prove your phone is great
There's something I'd like to see you try
Something your phone to emulate"

"Whatever that your phone could do"
He said with a voice so bold
"My phone can do it better than you
For your's is twenty months old!"

"So it's deal?" I coyly said
"No welching on your wager?"
"Of course," said he, with toss of head
"You'd need a miracle major!"

And without warning or slightest doubt
I hurled my phone at the wall
The screen was cracked and bits came out
But I still could make a call

I turned to him and did a cough
T'was his turn to follow
The look on his face was plain enough
He could barely even swallow

"Alright you win. My money you've earned"
He said as he paid his dues
"But if there's ever one thing that I have learned:
Your phone has got nothing to lose"

#1 Merit

Must you always

Compare us both?

He's more

Studious

Obedient

Even when I

Do something right

He does

It

Better

Regardless of what

I do I

Can never

Outdo

Him

I don't understand

Am I not

Your son

Too?

Also?

True story

#2 Telephone

We poked holes in cups
And thought we could hear

Our conversation
Through the thread

Of greetings
And pretence

That we were from the movies
Or that we were in a shop

We talked and talked
Through telephone paper cups

Traveling across
The living room, the stairs, my bedroom

My past
And
My present

#1 Merit

"He did well,
He got a merit."

Really?
He is married?
Who got married?

Why was he
Getting married?

He is only
A boy!
A 12-year-old boy.

"He got married?"

Laughter.


And I thought students
Got married
After music exams.

Introduction to Our Stew Pot

Inspired by Jen Campbell's 100 poems in a weekend challenge, Eddie and myself have challenged ourselves to write a poem a day based on a random tag word, 10 days in a row, for (no noble cause but) our own pursuit of literary aspirations (heh).

Sounds good? :)
Good.

You're in for a good meal.
Come back for more!

Mei Yii