Tag Archives: disease

A herd of poems!

Look at them all gallivanting about this page. It’s enough to make you want to sing! Or dance! But mostly read!

I wrote a few of these in the college library. Can you tell?

But first, Sensational Haiku Wednesday‘s prompt: love.

toothpaste for dinner

Love Haiku

love is knowing the
words to say, right or wrong, and
when to be silent.

Cinquain #1

neighbours annoy
while security guards
watch over everywhere but

Cinquain #2 – RSVP

they say
salvation through
christ only, heaven is
the goal. I feel I must reply:


the loathsome
muffles my thoughts

is that a
or a bad thing?

shut up please–
a library.

Haiku #1

heavy breather next
table over distracts me
can’t write a poem.

Haiku #2

murder is never
the answer, unless you’re the
villain in movies

Haiku #3 – Intolerance

Why do you hurt me,
dairy? Have I offended
you in some way? Why!

Shadorma #1

roses are
red, yes, but can be
white, pink, black,
yellow; since
my favourites are daisies
it doesn’t matter

Shadorma #2

just because
I hear voices, you
say I’m nuts.
the joke’s on
you; if I wasn’t crazy
you’d cease to exist.

Shadorma #3

raw chicken scares me.
not because
of disease,
but the inescapable:
it, too, was alive.

all of these poems are of course © Bridget Noonan, 2012.

Wanna know what I don’t own? The song She’s a Rainbow by the Rolling Stones which has been stuck in my head all week. I think it’s the piano part. And the rainbows. I did buy that technicolour backpack-purse.
But if I get famous, and there’s a movie made of my life, I want this song to be playing over the falling in love at first sight with my future lady. Definitely have to make that shit happen.

…What? Like you don’t have a playlist of songs for the soundtrack to your life story.
If you say no, make one! It’s fun. That’s your homework for this weekend, ladies and gentlemen. Post it in the comments! I’d love to see it 😀



Filed under Poetry

In Daddy’s Genes

And because I’m feeling productive today, I’ll post a second poem! This title was suggested by my best friend, because I could not for the life of me figure out what to call it. And Gene Blues was too terrible a pun to actually use.

In Daddy’s Genes

I am infected with that
Same nose, same eye colour,
Same hands, and more;
I inherited- or learned-
Arrogance, and stubbornness;
How to thrust my intellect
Up and out like a shield;
To slice others with words,
And to skewer them with silence.
My smile is a genetic disease,
My voice an unwelcome reminder.

And I wonder now
How many generations of
Lover, of thief, of farmer, of scholar,
Have shared the curve of my brow,
The same bark-brown hair,
And carved their words as I do?
I see my face, and all the faces,
Staring back at me in the mirror.

Is this my inheritance?
A predisposition for diabetes,
For cancer, for cruelty?
I see my fate in my sister’s dimple
And my brother’s blond curls.
Always the same pale pink skin
Blistering under the unforgiving sun.

And I wonder once more
How to throw off the chains
Of DNA and family;
Wonder if I could reach in
And dig out the offending
Markers and links and memories,
To hurl them down, screaming,
Defiant to the last atom.

Yes, I am infected with
Reminders, gestures, speech patterns,
Ingrained too deeply to shift at will.
My genetic makeup is immutable.
But that doesn’t change the
Small, secret, whispered wish
That one half- or all-
Of my twenty-three chromosome pairs
Were from a different donor.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011

This is one I have contemplated mailing out to a couple lit mags for publishing. What do you think, could I get in with something like this?


Filed under Poetry