Category Archives: @napowrimo2014

A Day in Hong Kong (Part the One)

A Day in Hong Kong (Part the One)

If I were in England now
– Which I’m not –
The day outside would appear grey
And drab and not that hot.
But this is Hong Kong!
And I know that it’s warm
And humid outside…
Oh, yes.

One misty, moisty morning, just as the sun was up there somewhere…

And travelling the streets of this smoggy city
Is fun – and we know that somewhere above is the sun

There is a hustle
And a bustle
As workmen lash bamboo scaffolding together with string
And shops begin to rise after their late-night early-morning trading

On the MTR, though, it is clean
And efficient
And clean
And, did I mention
Efficient?

Back on the street the word is ‘Excuse me,sir…’

And, no, I do not want to buy a suit…
Neither do I need a watch.
Or a suit… Or a watch…
No, thank you, I’m not a suit-wearing man
Ready this afternoon, you say…
How nice, but, please take my advice
As a refusal often offends
Don’t ask me if I’d like to buy a suit…
Or a watch… As I don’t
And I won’t…

So, on to the Ferry across the Mersey…. Oops, got that wrong.
Hong Kong Harbour it is and not the place of the aforementioned song.

Wrong Song!

Seu Lon Qew

So, long queue for the Peak Tram to reach the heights
To rise up above the smog and see the…
Smog from above!

But, we are trying up use every form of transport that is available to us.
Tram and train, ferry and bus, using our Oyster Card – here it’s an Octopus!
Walking is an option, feet to the ground
If an escalator to terra firma – that we are seeking –
Can ever be found.

Lunch; and as translating menus can take up such time,
We choose Vietnamese food – because, the element of supplies is no crime.

TBC

 

 

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Iffy by Graeme Sandford

When you are tired
And near expired
When your brain is a fuddle
And your thoughts all a muddle
When left and right are barely known
And the means to speak you do not own
When your eyes are closing with a snap!
When your want is for bed and a little nap
When you have lots to do but you can’t think what
When you are making coffee with an extra extra extra shot
When you spill the water, the milk, the lot
When you wished that you’d gone early to bed
When the toast you burnt is more charcoal than bread…
You’ll be nearly awake, my son.

 

Did You?

It is said that it is best to
‘Keep your Didg in the fridge
To stop it from melting
The hearts or the minds
Of those who will list
To starboard and larboard’
(Which now we call ‘port’)
And a thought has yet again occurred (different than the last one- the ‘tied-to-the-mast’ one)
To me; that, for every positive reaction there is an option for an equally negative reaction and that, further to this, that this may not have been an aboriginal thought.

And did you redo the rules for equality when you said that women couldn’t blow down one end and run their fingers up and down the outside?

Did you?

April the 28th – ‘Lifted’ by Graeme Sandford

Lifted
I press a button lightly…
It’s not for a place that I want to go
But, I’d love to press it firmly
And to be taken where know not I do not know.

I press a button firmly…
The one I always press, it is just so
Always the game, always the same choice
The decision made, not lightly, I listen to the voice inside of me
And choose to keep the choice the same.

One day, I will press the other button
And see where It takes me
One day I will travel to a distant land…
But, for now, I shall keep to the known path
That takes me to my present destination…

But, one day…

Remember Remember

At the break of the day,
And at the setting of the sun;
At the approach of the darling buds of May
When all is lost or won
When push comes to shove
And minds and hearts to love
Then shall you be free
To choose to win to lose
For as you walk along the valley of the shallow half-breath
You shall fear no-one
And none this day shall be afear’d
That lie abed and count themselves unlucky to have been so.

For those that have gone
Those that are
And those yet to be
Or not
May we be truly thankful

 

 

Numerically Speaking by Graeme Sandford

To quench my thirst
Took more than I reckoned
But, a thought occurred –
If I travelled North
Forthwith

And learned a few obscure guitar licks
It would be heaven.
But, as a downright reprobate
I should be fine
– if… And when.

Book Lovers’ Lament by Graeme Sandford

Poets die in hot cars;

While doggerels lay exhausted in the heat of the midnight sun

Lacking fluid and needing the shadow

Of Autum-te-dum leaves.

The sweat of a writer’s brow trickles between lashes

And splashes of colour lighten up an otherwise dull shade of grey.

Old tomes lie, unread, unnoticed and largely unwanted
when minute devices carry their weight lightly
Politely giving up their words at the press of a button
Although some would think of Shakespeare as Lamb dressed up like Milton.
Or Brie compared to Stilton.

Poems die in a bright non-blaze of apathy
Lounging in cupboards and drawers; spouting off about charges and wars
When all the people want is a quick laugh

Then another

Without too much bother
“Brother, can you spare the time to read a book?”
“A what?”
And so it goes
Where it will end
Nobody knows.
The written word is fading and blurred
And will be long forgotten
When all things have occurred
That are happening now.
Learning to read?
What is the need?