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  • Writer's pictureJL Nash

A 24-hr Poetry Marathon, A Head Cold and a Podcast

Hey ho what ho, missed doing the blog for a couple of weeks.  I guess there’s not been much to report except that I am working on a new international project with an amazing Artist/antiques dealer/ curator I know.  We have a year to complete it and then launching it in Italy, maybe London. Oooh I know! Exciting and mysterious! We’ll release some teasers in good time; we will, I promise.

Recovering from a stinking head cold.

Painted two geese in a watercolour workshop - oh yes, still painting as much as I can.

In the mean time I completed the 24-hour Poetry marathon this weekend past. Writing one poem per hour to a prompt.  I thought I’d include a few excerpts here.

In the third hour I was tasked to write twenty little poems all with different prompts. Here they are… they won’t stay this way as I’m bound to rewrite over time but for now…


1) Will the weeds rise up

to glorious applause from the garden

when we are all dead?

My mother wants to know

from her comfy chair

by the window.


2) I swallowed the southern cross

It was above the City Library


3) His beard is smoother than it looks

His perfume settles on the air

He is my poem in the making


4)Your words taste like mouth music


5) Even though it’s long gone

I still see Susan in Patagonia

dancing the tango

in a small bar, loud music

macho gaucho flirting


6) I can’t reach the stars

they look so close


7) She liked the feel of soil

damp, dark in between her fingers


8) ’You bletherscyte’ he called

the chattering chipmunk

Smiling at his granddaughter


9) You ate a second dinner

after I cooked pancakes

I had to write a poem


10)It’s about status

lowering status to make them think

he’s so dumb

he’s the kind of dumb who loses his tools

he must be too dumb

to kill his wife and kids

let’s go chaps, nothing to see here


11) The happy boy of all time

played endlessly with sticks

from a bridge

over a river


12) The hand cream burns blisters

onto skin already raw

Blood mixes

slippery chemistry


13) Miss Lizzy Blue

has begun to talk to me

in broken english

Her barks have evolved

into metaphor

Her whimpers

an invitation for kisses

A new personality


14) She was called Cow pat

so she changed her name

She was called Little Yeti

so she changed her name

She was called Nellie

Confused as to her whereabouts

she changed it again

for definition 

for identity


15 I will wish there is a way of cheating

at Mahjong at the age of 93


16) Sweet shit

that it may cover her skin

to hide all her blemishes


17) He will smash all unconvincing lies

He will remember the wars he has seen

He will play pingpong in the retired services bar


18) Todora’s Dream

Тази песен изпълва душата ми*

I weep each time I hear it

I am home with each note

(*This song fills my soul - Bulgarian)


19) I said out loud I need a new phone

It is now singing to me, unprompted

songs I have never downloaded

in an effort

to keep my attention


20) My mother’s garden

fights her for dominance

Strange, some of them, I am sure.  Not writing much as need to work on podcast for the Write Up North, Australia members today. Also need to work more on body language exercises for the Ellipsis training course.

I’ll leave you with two more excerpts from poetry of the weekend

from the poem…


“On top of the plastic viking hat

The one with horns

That sits over the newton’s cradle

On top of the antique roll desk

Is a gold tinsel tiara

Child size - magical

It’s a good thing I have a small head”

And…one about a kaleidoscope


“Fractals falling into formation

Shards of stained glass

opaque and translucent

capture the imagination

demand reverence

Enigmatic delight”

Pip pip peeps

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