THE TEABOX
Brook A. Bond
Writing, Blogging, and other Text-Based Nonsense.
Poetry Corner
Poetry is a form of writing that I've never been too confident in, and a large proportion of my poetic efforts have veered towards a more comedic edge. Here you'll find only the most tolerable of my poems. Enjoy.
"Songs Of Reflection" - Inspired By William Blake
This collection of William Blake inspired poems was created for a poetry module in my third year of university.
I not only tried to capture Blake's writing style, but also his illustrations, resulting in my first rather clumsy attempts at watercolour painting.
Though this style of writing is rather out of my comfort zone, I found creating these pieces an interesting experience, and I must say that I am quite happy with the finished result.
Poetry From My First Year Of University
Micycle
There once was a man named Micycle
Who rode about town on a tricycle
“Hey Michael, you fool”
“To lie isn’t cool!”
And he froze up in place like an icicle
But he knew of the scheme
To keep the rhymes clean
And keep the text flowing with beauty
He fell off his trike
And onto a spike
And got a big wound on his booty
His authentic name
Didn’t fit with the game
Of writing poems that make people happy
Since he fell on his bum
He feels really numb
And now he’s in need of a nappy.
Nightshade
This poem was originally written for a university poetry class, after being instructed to research a species of plant. I chose L. Atropa belladonna, or the Deadly Nightshade.
The tomato and the aubergine are lovely in their way.
But they have a little secret that they just forgot to say.
In the corner of the garden, where most men cannot see
Is their cruel and ugly sister, the hateful little me!
My fruit looks oh so lovely; shiny, and delicious.
But just a single bite will make you get suspicious.
Pretty soon i'll be your doom when your heart begins to die.
Lying deep within the garden, my leaves quite hard to spy.
The craftiest of witches have always been my friends.
And none of us will hesitate to send mortals to their ends.
I'm prettier than Gaia but just as dark as Nyx.
The undisputed evil queen in my realm of stones and sticks.
So if there's a certain person you think really needs to pay.
Why not sneak me in their fruit bowl and send them on their way?
I am the deadly nightshade, and I just wanted to say.
My potent poison's power might just end a life today.
The Great Night Cat
A cat in "gothic" style by Louis Wain
Image Credit - Wellcome Collection
Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)
This piece was written for a university class, during a task that involved writing a short piece based around a favourite painting. This is a painting by the weirdly wonderful Louis Wain, an artist who has always been a favourite of mine. I've always interpreted this piece as having a very celestial aesthetic, which inspired the creation of a character called The Great Night Cat.
I am the great night cat.
My fur is white lace, and my eyes are amber moons.
My smile is a broad constellation, like a string of shining pearls,
and my whiskers are the vapour trails of low-flying planes.
The night sky is a terrific place to be. I can look down at all the little matchbox houses, and think of all the people who are sleeping in their beds.
But there is one man I know who isn’t asleep.
He is unwell and has been unwell for quite some time.
He is so unwell in fact, that they took him away from his home to a place where he can get better, but I think he’s only getting worse.
He’s one of the lucky few I’ll show myself to. He stares up into the night sky and sees me in all my glory.
Tonight I peer through his window and into his room.
He has a canvas on an easel, and I watch as he paints a Prussian blue sky in glossy oil paint.
He fumbles for a smaller brush for a moment, marking the page with two amber circles.
I purr as he starts to make fine lines of white gouache with a horsehair detail brush.
It’s me! he’s painting me!
He continues tracing my white lace fur until dawn breaks, because when dawn breaks I must go. But I’ll be back. I am the great night cat, and I am persistent.
Dillon's Lockdown
This is a poem from the point of view of my cat, Dillon, and the many frustrations he has faced at the hands of the COVID lockdowns. He doesn't like being around his family 24/7, and he misses the ability to sneak and scheme in total privacy. Poor Baby.
Whenever I pitter-patter my paws across the floor
One of them is always there to get in my way
They pick me up in their big dumb stupid arms
And stop me from eating from the bin
Why can’t I have those chicken bones if they don’t want them?
They are supposed to go to work or school
One of those nice away places that’s out of my territory
So I can do all of my sneakings without being disturbed.
But they’re home
All of them
It’s been almost a year and they haven’t left.
Why won’t they just go?
The human may cook the foods
The human may clean the messes
The human may even pay the bills
But cat is boss
Everybody knows this
And I want them to leave!