Tag Archives: work

So many poems! Don’t worry, most are short.

This first one is my response to Sensational Haiku Wednesday at You Know… That Blog. This week’s theme is the word craft. ¬†Here we go!


rasping steel saw blade,
hammers, nails, sandpaper slide,
sawdust falls like snow

Some more fun short poetry! This is the sort of thing I can knock out at work. And did do at work, as you might be able to tell. ūüôā


that magic feeling
no customers in line to
beg for attention


The temptation grows
Croissant, baguette, and cookie
Happy baking smell.


I saw you today
someone that I used to know
you avert your face

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.



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Monday’s Child

Monday’s Child

The first day of the week was not my cup
Of tea, before. Monday meant school, bullies,
And the end of sleeping in on weekends.
Now I take the day for me, rarely work.

This child of Monday is average of face,
Though quick with a pen, and quick to anger.
Monday’s child isn’t always on the ball:
Forgets the big stuff, and sweats all the small.

Mondays are not the chore they were, before;
A day can be a day without worry.
Perhaps Monday’s child can borrow grace from
Tuesday while she goes through the working week.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

In case you were wondering, the whole Monday’s child thing came from this poem. It’s super old, but it’s interesting that people think that they’ll fit into these quaint little boxes.

Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go.
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for a living,
But the child born on the Sabbath day
Is fair and wise and good in every way.


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I wrote this for Three Word Wednesday. This week’s words were grin, jumble and naked.


he strides the beach with
a joyful bounce in his step,
nervous grin upon his face and
a small velvet box in his pocket

he reminds himself not to
mumble through his speech,
jumble the careful phrases
or sweat too much-

she loves him, and he knows
she is going to say yes
but he wants it to be
perfection for them both

he remembers that she walks
this stretch of beach on Tuesdays
after work, and wants to surprise
his love at her favourite spot

and surprise her he does
with a high cry of dismay,
naked as the day she was born
wrapped up in a coworker.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

I have done much better.
For one thing, the title is too punny. And there’s not enough buildup. The whole thing feels cliche. I need to get the emotion to come across more strongly. Ugh.
UNsatisfied with my work this weekend, as you might have guessed.

Continue reading


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Fibonacci Sequence

I don’t know if all of you know this, but I’m kiiiind of a nerd. That poem I wrote, Subatomic Love, might have clued you in. Or parts of In Daddy’s Genes.¬†I like comic books, video games, Dungeons and Dragons, fantasy and science fiction (it’s SF not sci-fi! haha) in all their various forms like movies novels poetry music art whatever, science of many varieties, and mathematics.¬†This is relevant to poetry, I promise.
In fact, it has been argued that writing itself is a nerdy sort of thing. If that’s true then I never want to be cool. But back to what I was saying.

So, if you know a bit about mathematical concepts, you’re probably familiar with Fibonacci’s sequence. Start with 0 and 1, and you add the second number to the sum of the preceding pair. Like, 0+1 = 1, so the sum of the pair is 1 and the second number is 1. Therefore your next pair is 1 and 1. 1+1=2, then 1+2=3, so 2+3=5, then 3+5=8, then 5+8=13, and on into infinity. 0 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55… It’s also a neat way to approximate the golden ratio (works best with the higher numbers, because 8/5=1.60000, but 55/34=1.617647, and then 89/55=1.61818, where the golden ratio is 1.61803, so you can get pretty close if you don’t need a lot of digits), if you’re into irrational¬†numbers. I’m pretty fond of pi. And pie. Mmm, now I want fudge. But ignore that, I’m just hungry :P. Again, this is relevant, aside from the commentary on food.

What it boils down to is that I was bored at work, thinking about numbers and how wonderful they are, when inspiration fell out of the sky like an Acme anvil in a Looney Tunes cartoon.
The Fibonacci sequence is all whole numbers, right? So I can use it for poetry form.

For example, you can use the first bunch of numbers as your limits on words or syllables per line:

(for the purposes of poetry, I feel comfortable omitting the zero in my count)
Fibonacci Poetry #1 

warmth (1)
brings (1)
croci (2)
peeking out (3)
from beneath the snow, (5)
thriving while the world is asleep; (8)
Eliot was so wrong about April’s cruelty. (13)

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

Or, you can get a little crazy with it. I was thinking about symmetry and palindromes as well, which is what I worked into this one. I work retail; if I don’t exercise my brain regularly, I’ll become another automaton going through the motions of life, and I’m way too young to give up, to no longer want “to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life”. Fuck that, I’m here, and I live deliberately. Regret is for other people.
So here’s another thing I was doodling between customers. Words this time, rather than syllables. I thought I’d give both a shot.

Fibonacci Poetry #2

help! (1)
your (1)
beauty is (2)
suffocating in its (3)
intensity; I can’t breathe in (5)
or out unless (3)
I close (2)
my (1)
eyes. (1)

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

Whaddaya think? It’s probably not a new idea, but I like it. I’m probably going to write some more like this, because math is fun.


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it was too much to hope
that someone could knead
my aching shoulders and back
after the day I had at work.

nearly melted from the heat
from the crush of customers,
my ears still ringing from the
overwhelming pandemonium.

so I stood in the shower,
head hung low in defeat,
while the pounding water
cleansed my aches instead.

©¬†Bridget Noonan, 2011.

This is why I shouldn’t write poetry after a long day while feeling shitty. I get all morose.

Inspired by the prompt at Three Word Wednesday


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