Archive for the ‘Proems’ Category


Adieu HaikuCity, Adieu…


‘my’ NaPoWriMo 2014 – 30 consecutive days of journalistic proem-writing – comes to a close tonight with a textile arts 17-syllable haiku at the Off The Trolley Productions ‘satellite’ blog: ‎

Here are some of the fone foto images that accompanied the 30 haikus…



Haiku City on the Go…


Today is day 15 of the 30 days of April’s poem-a-day writing that is happening on Off the Trolley Production’s HaikuCity blog posts: ‎

The theme of today’s haiku is housework – not one of my regular activities… But the ‘challenge’ of creating a haiku-per-day – and adding to that a fone foto or two – has been a spring cleaning for my spirit.


The artwork above was created in March and based around a haiku composed at the beginning of that month.  This untitled piece features water-colouring & collaging of my now-shredded New Internationalist journal diary from 2009.  Having begun my gender transition in 2007, this diary would not offer clues to my hidden transgender nature (as investigated in the Retro Diary Enquiry category of this blog).

Creating art, however, has been a lifelong – and mostly regular – activity that has seen me through the challenges of not knowing/understanding my genderqueer – and bipolar and Aspergic – nature…

More haikus featured on this blog back in February:




Rock- & Pop-inspired Proems…


courtesy at google images

1970 saw the start of my non-air-guitar performances.  I preferred the tangible hockey stick Hendrix.  Here’s my acrostic (not lacrosse stick) proem to the legend:

Jimi.  The legend.
Angel of Woodstock.
My little wing’d hero.
Eulogising the voice, the face.
Still he lives on in
Music out of time:
Army boy’s blues,
Riffs on his guitar,
Sending me blind.
(Hyde Park, Isle of Wight.
And I? Born too late…)
Lost in this voodoo chile’s
Laudable guitar wails
He plays with his teeth.
Experience his band of gypsies:
Narcissists, barbiturates & babes…
Drifted away in his electric ladyland.
Raise hell in heaven unholy Hendrix.
Infidels & initiates celebrate thy legacy.
eXit genius.  Stage lefthand.

©  Luc(e) Raesmith


As for this bunch, they didn’t inspire me to ought but this culinary parody… (more trans*pired than inspired)

Sassy Spice

My sister’s a true spice girl.
The first thing she showed off
in her new home
were those thirtysomething jars
with the oh-so-neat labels.
There tiered shelving in the cabinet
awaited her precious cache.

Baby spice pots mounting the base
for ginger and other warm sweet exotics,
rising to the sporty set:
fenugreek, mustard and coriander.
Seeds lead to scary chilli,
turmeric and cumin, with room
for posh saffron on top.

She’s a cordon vert lover in the kitchen.
She’d make a nice bomb on the box
if she chose to do a Delia;
exploiting the masses’ desires
for meatless dishes and
‘desettling’ those chief male chefs
with her cruelty-free tarts.

But my sister’s not one for flashing
her all in public.  At home
with her chopping board,
mouth a-pout, gaze fixed;
she raises two fingers in a V,
licks the butter smeared between,
and her dressing gown slips apart
to reveal cleavage and navel as she poses
the question to her espoused, shouting proud
“Do you want paprika on your ciabatta pizza?”

And as mozerella melts and spices sizzle
with the heat of her passion,
her gas hob-top oven, she hugs
herself with the thought:
“I’ve got me here some real hot grill power.”

©  Luc(e) Raesmith

haikus have their say…


… after an absence of 6 weeks & more – due to non-network connectivity / wifi-lessness (and that not due to storm nor mobile battery failure), here now a gentle return to blog-fullness (something akin to Cognitive Behavioural Therapeutic mindfulness) with a haiku or two (or 8) from a writing group session’s escape from the weather (but there’s no climate change without climate change)…


snow (not hail) from last February…

hailstones clattering
thru blue green and magenta
icing cyclamen

sibling’s marmalade
jogs buttery memory
Sunday school breakfast

flailing writers’ pens,
conbobulated mindsets:
blown cobwebs away…


approaching the fated (& fêted) Dawlish, south Devon…

hurricane’d landslide
renders asunder journey’d
“outstanding beauty”…

rain daggers stabbing
steamy fingerprint window
seals in escapist

oatmeal biscuits dunked
sweet tea break from stuffy space:
calorific flight!

and inspired by tutor-given text  [  mountain,  snow,  tree,  flower,  moon ]
and the Lego film poster at bus stop …


cheating with morn (not moon) light here…

net curtain moon spill:
nylon white petals flower
naked black elm twigs

snow mountain goddess,
square Lego head deity’s
plastic Zen practice


13 Days of Yuletide…


On the Thirteenth Day of Yuletide the Universe behove to me:

13  shelves for dusting  (ignored)

12  plants for watering  (well, not 3 cacti…)l

11  pots for scouring  (3 soups, 2 veg, 2 peas, 2 eggs, 1 noodles + 1 plums)

10  tweets @ trending  (didn’t follow)

9  twits a-twerking…  (not really, thank All That Is!)

8  moods a-cycling / meds side-effecting

7  spots a-sprouting  (bloomin’ 2nd puberty…)

6  ciders ‘bottling’  [= not resolving #8 issue(s) ]

5  mouldy sills  (eek: J-cloths to the rescue!)

4  junk mail cards  (plus TV licence threats… but I don’t do TV!)

3  Facebook friends  (confirmed✓)

2  rain-splat’d gloves  (no ‘biggy’, just soggy at the time)

… but vanilla custard vaping† liquid   (Lush!  †See Glossary, part 2)


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Solstice  /  Yuletide  /  Xmas  Greetings  One  &  All  !