I (sometimes) call myself Mr. Pondersome. I'm a rather wordy, weirdy person. I say hullo a lot. I write a lot more. While you're here, why not give some of it a read?

Friday, 17 September 2010

An Angry Woman Waits (a.k.a. an old recycled poem)

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).


She said 'no problem',
grinned white and bore with the words,
but the seethe-bomb blew...


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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