Hullo again,
I don't know about you but I have quite a few thoughts and ideas that I don't often follow through on. Well, not fully anyway. These can range from simple passing domestic thoughts like 'Maybe I should start the washing-up' to dramatic literary ideas such as 'Maybe I should give this character a history of inexplicable and often disturbing encounters to make him extra angst-ridden'. Among the latter ideas are shards of forgotten or deliberately ignored poetic verse.
Back when I was a far younger young man I was very angst-ridden and so wrote an awful lot of dark, brooding poetry (or as I refer to it now, 'grumpy depressive guff'). Among this poetry floated an odd little line that clung on with black spindly talons and refused to let go - 'an angry woman waits'.
Well it took some time but I've finally worked it into something. I'm a great believer in getting yourself in the right mood when writing a particular piece of writing and today (thanks to all sorts of bad shit going on) I have managed to adopt the perfect mood for this odd little line. Below is the final, extra angst-ridden result - not one, but TWO grim poems - a seething haiku and the bile-ridden rhyming verse poem that grew out of it.
And here they are! (All those with a gentle disposition when it comes to loaded language please look away now).
AN ANGRY WOMAN WAITS (THE HAIKU)
She said 'no problem',
grinned white and bore with the words,
but the seethe-bomb blew...
AN ANGRY WOMAN WAITS
She doesn't speak
she forces words,
she just won't lift the gates.
She will not leak
unless she's hurt -
an angry woman waits.
She doesn't shout
she mutters bile,
she must control the fates.
She will not spout
until she's riled -
the angry woman waits.
She doesn't grab
she lets you drop,
she has no time for spates.
She'll gently stab
and will not stop -
that angry woman waits.
And on a lighter note, I'm heading of :D.
Thanks for reading,
Mr. Pondersome
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