A special place

Our prompt today is to write a poem about a specific place, incorporating concrete details as much as possible. I know exactly what I want to write about!

The Scotsman's Lounge

Near the steep top of Cockburn Street,

close to The Royal Mile,

lay a cosy pub of sorts

that always makes me smile

See, every Sunday night at eight

the wee pub became full;

when Andy Chung began to play

you couldn't help leave your stool

We'd sing, we'd dance

and drink cheap ale;

an old wee lass would jive and jig,

her cheeks were flushed, not pale

Sid would dance with her at times,

he'd dance with everyone;

the warm, stale air would rise,

but no one would go home

Andy would play 'til midnight came

and we'd reluctantly move out,

the cold, crisp air felt colder still

with winter still about

I miss that time in Edinburgh;

all seemed right with my world,

but I'm grateful to have spent time there;

how else could these memories be told?

Andrea Vermaak © 2020

Points in time

Today's challenge is to write a poem which 'involves a story or action that unfolds over an appreciable length of time.' A suggestion is made to focus on imagery, sound, emotional content, or all of the above. I love this challenge, so I am going to try and do just that!

My attempt is write about a stroll through my favourite city...Edinburgh in Scotland, of course!

I even pay homage to William Wordsworth's I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (I recently covered this poem with my grade 8 students, so a two-word phrase slipped into my poem. Can you spot it?)

Oh, but to wander

 I long for the manifold days

far beyond the sea

where Curiosities are commoners

and Culture stands on every corner

I miss strolling aimlessly

past History,

sometimes stopping to scrutinise her,

ever wondering what secrets she keeps

I ever wish to stop,
to gaze – and gaze –

 upon the daffodils,

to sip on forbidden sunshine

with the damp green grass 

beneath bare feet

I yearn to turn towards home

as the rain spits on my boots

and in my face;

to perch on the window sill

as I listen to the afternoon gulls,

close my eyes

and breathe the air of Serenity

Spaces

Today's challenge is to write a poem that "explores a small, defined space" that is meaningful to us. The first thing that came to mind, particularly because it holds so much meaning for me, is a window. No, not just any window. The common room window in a shared flat in Edinburgh...

The open space

The open space in the far wall

Could hold one person on its sill,

It looked down on the street below

And up at the castle on the hill

Mornings presented rabbits within its frame,

Sometimes mist over the castle,

But always fresh air,

And often rain

We'd leave it open on long summer nights;

I'd watch the people walk by,

Smile and wave at those who waved up at me,

Hear the stag nights' drunken songs

In August, I'd shed tears,

Listening to the lady sing in Gaelic at the Tattoo

I'd watch in awe as half-hidden fireworks lit up the sky

And the One o'clock Gun and a lonely bagpiper

Said farewell to the sun

Oh the memories, 

That an open space in a wall could hold;

If I dared,

I'd sit and gaze out of it forever.

Andrea Vermaak

Longing...

I don't know what else to say other than I've been inspired (again) by my constant longing to go 'home' to the UK. I spent most of 2008 in Edinburgh, Scotland. From there, I travelled extensively throughout the UK. It changed my life forever and I doubt that I will ever stop thinking about my other (no, not even second; other!) home. 

Some who know me may (read 'do') think I am obsessed, but they were not there. They did not experience what I experienced, nor can anyone, least of all the island itself, ever know how much I long to return (it is my greatest wish and sole ambition).

This is a very personal poem inspired by a very British-sounding song (however silly that may sound) that I just heard in a very British television series that I'm watching again (though the title is inspired by part of the lyrics of another song by the same band, and the band is actually American. Weird, I know; but hey, it works).

You don't know what I go through

I sway to your rhymes,

Writhe in the agony of my memories;

You are too far away

Oh how cursed could one be

To be born of nowhere

Yet long to belong

To you?

You don't know what I go through

The long nights

I ache

I cry

I choke on your melodies,

Shed tears on the pages of your history;

Why are you so far away?

 

If only this cursed land

Would spit me out,

but consume my pain

That I might be free

You don't know what I go through

The burning days

I want to forget

I want to leave behind

You don't  know what I go through

Andrea Vermaak

Out in the open

My sixth and final poem for today draws inspiration from outside. We are prompted to look outside a window and spend a bit of time jotting down all the nouns and colours we see, as well as all the things that are taking place outside, writing down the relevant verbs for each action. We are then prompted to use our list of words to inspire a poem.

I can't help but think of the scenes outside my flat window, below the castle, when I lived in Edinburgh. On rainy days, when I was not at work, I would happily watch the world go by, sitting on the couch and staring out of the window. My poem is, therefore, also about those outdoor scenes, that happy time. Not much colour is used though, but I think the scene sets itself... Either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Looking out

 

Looking out of my flat window,

I see the puddle splashed streets below,

The grey, cloudy skies above

 

 People run to catch buses

Or catch-up with friends;

People sing in the rain

 

Mothers carrying heavy bags

And herding laughing children,

Dodge early party-goers

Already skipping in the street

 

Rabbits hop and hide in shrubs

Between oblivious walkers

And Queen Mary's quarters,

Which dominate the skyline

 

Two young men

Sing and wave at me;

I smile and wave back

 

All is right with the world.

 

Andrea Vermaak

How much do I love thee...

A prompt was to write a love poem for an inanimate object. If a city may be viewed as an 'inanimate object', then my object of affection is an obvious one: Edinburgh.

I lived and worked in Edinburgh for over eight months in 2008. It is, in my opinion, the most amazing, beautiful city in the world; one which I will love as my second home forever.

I dedicate this poem to you Edinburgh, my love.

 

Edinburgh

 

I answered when you called my name

And you showed me beautiful secrets

On golden lit streets

 

Memories are written in your

Ever changing skies,

Nostalgia in your music

 

Your heart,

Your pulse,

Is your people,

Brave souls with dancing eyes

 

The wind whispers the names

Of warriors, kings and thieves,

Of those who lift your standard,

Those who turn your wheels

 

Sleepy, proud city,

I still hear you call my name,

 I still walk your streets in my dreams.

 

 

Andrea Vermaak