So.. that's it. I've written a poem a day (sometimes 2) for 100 days. Time for a break! I'm going to go through the poems I've written and pick out the ones which show promise, edit them and then put up a poetry section on the site. The article I wrote for Square Magazine is out later this month and I'm appearing at the launch show for that at the poet's corner on the 17th of March.

I have to apologise for #98 - I put the pen to paper and that's what came out. It was meant to be about addiction to Warcraft and dedicated to our good friend Craig (Craig - if you still want the dedication - it's yours!) It's also the only poem I've written with any swearing in, well done me! 

So - here we go. The last 100 days update I'll ever do. It's been fun.

#87 - The Devil's Invention
They were invented by the devil
To torment our wretched souls
The tangling
Jangling
Evil triangles of despair.
Beelzebub's greatest triumph.
The coat hanger.

#88 - Half Arsed At Best
I'm not the same as you
My rhythms are half arsed at best
Phrases sometimes too
Compressed
Depressed
And often overstressed.
A poet without due care and attention
A speaker without grace or tension.
An oddity
Writing a strange and simple ditty.
Something weird but also pretty.

#89 - This Poem Contains Punnery
One of my wife's favourite things
Is a shelf in her parents' spare room
They run a shop
And the shelf contains stock
Including a box of old maps
Which says in large letters,
The prints of Wales.

#90 - When I came to
I lost my memory
For a number of years
Lost my family
Lost my peers
But when it came back
In a flash of white light
It gave me a pause
I gave me a fright
I wasn't a murderer
But something much worse
I was an estate agent
That was my curse.

#91 - The Key To My Heart
If you were the key to my heart
Could you lock it?
And then put the key deep
Down in your pocket?
It would help stop my feelings
From tumbling out
My hopes and my fears
My love and my doubt.

#92 - Jacuzzi
So, I got in the Jacuzzi
And the fizzy water frothed a bit
It was warm ___
Pleasant enough.
I was bored.
It was then
That my shorts
Began slowly to inflate.

#93 - P.O.P.
It's just
Perfectly Ordinary Paranoia
I tell myself.
As we walk down the promenade in Spain.
As people seem to stare at me
A look of blame
A look, of shame.

It's just
Perfectly Ordinary Paranoia
I whisper it
As we sit in the park eating cheese and bread
A man looks at me
And something is said
I don't understand
I smile
And I stand.

It's just
Perfectly Ordinary Paranoia
I tell him
He looks confused and walks away
People still look my way.
What did I say?
What, did I say?

#94 - The Ghost Of Bilbao
On the top deck
At ten forty five
The blackness envelopes
The whole space around me
I sit in the dark
Staring up at the stars
Lost to the world
Lost to my thoughts
"Evening"
A gruff voice to my left
A man sits beside me
Shrouded in shadow.
The moonlight picks out his large glasses
"Hello" I reply
I think that he smiles
As he leans slowly back
"Beautiful isn't it?"
He says to the dark
"Yes" I agree
"It makes me feel tiny, but also feel free."
He thinks for a moment
Before he speaks out
"We sent a ship
Amongst the stars"
I wonder if he works for NASA
Perhaps he means we as a race
Maybe he's a little disturbed
His icy words.
His icy words.

"We got to the edge...
What we thought was the edge
And it just carried on
More stars
More planets
We drifted, drifted."
I looked at him then
As the moon seemed to brighten
His skin seemed soft silver
In the white light
His eyes were full
Of tears and fright
It made me shudder
He turned and spoke
His cold dead eyes
Looked through my soul
"We found a planet
Rich and fertile
Perhaps a home.
Perhaps..."

He got up
And began to walk away
"Wait..."
I cried, "Who are you?"
He paused, his shoulders hung
"We are you.
We are linked.
Until you take us home.
Perhaps."

#95 - Under The Watchful Gaze Of Portland Bill
A sunny day
Under the watchful gaze of Portland Bill
A moment spent
Over the town
On the side of a hill
A sense of peace
When the world seems pure
When the world seems still
On a sunny day
Under the watchful gaze of Portland Bill.

#96 - South England Tour
Today we went to Doobly Door.
As part of my Daddies great South England Tour.
When Daddy saw the rock thing, he said it looked grand
But I just shrugged and kicked at the sand.
What does a big rock thing actually do?
And can we go back, cause I so need the loo!
Mum said that the hole was a secret doorway
To a magical land where the fishes all play.
But when I said that I wanted to go
Daddy looked angry at me and said "No!"
Anyway, I saw a bird going through
And it stayed in this world so it can't have been true.
And then Mummy gave me a massive ice-cream!
Like the ones I get in my dream.
That was the best bit, although later on
I did like the cake thing Mum said was a scone.

#97 - Don't Say It With Flowers
Don't say it with flowers
Say it with Fruit.
It's much more expressive
Much more unique.
An apple a day?
Well what does that mean?
It says that I wish you
The best of all health.
An orange can say
That it's time for a break
And nothing, but nothing
Says that I love you
Like a little Lychee.

#98 - Murloc Dreams
I dreamt I had sex with a Murloc.
The Murloc was wearing a rather nice frock.
And somehow that made it OK.
In some bizarre and intangible way.

I dreamt I had sex with a Murloc.
It pinned me against a cold hard wall of rock.
And somehow it got me to stay.
As I wondered if I was a love, or a lay.

I dreamt I had sex with a Murloc.
And as it slid up and down over my c*ck
I just couldn't help it, I started to pray
Oh god no, oh god yes, oh god please. Oh. I. Say.

And now when my wife
Wears her favourite dress
In red and in green
I don't fancy her less
I lust for her more
Press her up to the wall
And she does do a wonderful
Murloc cat call.

#99 (a) - 99
The only thing better
Than a 99 ice-cream
Is a double
99 ice-cream.
Or a 198.

#99 (b) - Pen-ultimate
I have in my hand
   The ultimate pen
It slays evil ghouls
   And defends honest men
I think that it's stronger
   Than all of your swords
It can in one stroke
   Destroy goblin hordes
But what it does most
   Yes, most of the time
Is think up a simple, innocuous rhyme.

#100 - The End

We're almost there, just one last push before it's all over. Part of me wonders how long I could carry on writing a poem a day. Part of me knows it would be better to take some time to edit what I've written over the last few months. All of me knows I'll never be the same, I'm doing a few poetry things in the next month, ending with performing at the launch show of a magazine I've got an article in about the 100 days project and my experiences writing poetry (Square Magazine for anyone who's interested). Here are the last 10 poems I wrote:

#77 - The Pretty Ones
Why are the pretty ones always so blue?
Why are the pretty ones always made of glue?
Why do the pretty ones seem to smell of dust?
Why do the pretty ones always seem to rust?
Why are the pretty ones eating apple pie?
Why to the pretty ones always have to die?
I once took a pretty one on an aeroplane
But once she got up there, she seemed to go insane
Why do the pretty ones always break your heart?
I know the actual answers
But I don't know where to start.

#78 - Best Birthing Album In The World Ever (73)
Track 1 - Here She Comes - Bonnie Tyler
Track 2 - Breathe - Lenny Kravitz
Track 3 - Black Hole Sun - Sound Garden
Track 4 - Push It - Salt & Pepper
Track 5 - Don't Look Back In Anger - Oasis
Track 6 - Ain't Too Proud To Beg - Rolling Stones
Track 7 - The Hardest Part - Blondie
Track 8 - Everybody Hurts - REM
Track 9 - A Hard Days Night - The Beatles
Track 10 - Torn - Natalie Umbruglia
Track 11 - Tender - Blur
Track 12 - Sweet Child o' Mine - Guns 'n' Roses

(Followed by the theme to 2001: A Space Odyssey on repeat)

#79 - Mountain Stroll
Walking arm in arm.
No harm in going for a stroll
atop the mountain.
Where the snow-fall glitters
Like a silver thread
Woven 'tween the brush and weed.
Find a patch of fresh white snow
A virgin path we make ourselves
Over gleaming blankets - a sand dune but of ice.
It makes me think of angels
Here
Walking arm in arm
Standing over Aber
Standing over clouds
As the sun, begins to set.

#80 - My Dressing Gown
Sometimes I wear my dressing gown
All day.
I get dressed
But I put my dressing gown back on.
Over my clothes.
Sometimes I forget.
And go out.
To bring in the bin.
Or go to the shops.
I once did the comedy store in Manchester.
In my dressing gown.
It was comfy.
Although it could probably do with being washed some time soon.

#81 - Poorly Cat
The cat's not very well
Vet said nothing much
And charged me forty quid.
I wish he'd eat some food
(The cat - the vet eats plenty)
And have a drink.
Not even salmon tempts him.
I worry
Hope he feels better tomorrow
Back to his normal
Noisy
Grumpy self.
I hope.

#82 - The Boy Who Didn't Cry Wolf
The boy who didn't cry wolf
also got eaten.
The End.

#82(b) - Wedding Cake
We saved the top of our wedding cake.
It may have been our biggest mistake.
We ignored it for years
and amidst our cheers
upon the birth of our first child.

I awoke with a start and a worry
So across to the cot I did hurry
Worse than my fears
Were the small babies tears
As the layer of cake hovered and smiled

The cake became babies best friend.
It seemed there was nothing the cake couldn't mend.
A scuff on the knee.
A scald from the tea.
Until the child hungered... and into her mouth the poor cake was then piled.

#83 - Ice Cream
I don't scream for ice cream.
Well, not any more.
But I do dream of ice cream. 
It's what my mouth is for.
I eat it in the Summer.
I eat it in the rain.
I like it in the Winter.
I even eat it when in pain.
When I wish to celebrate -
ice cream  - whatever the season
I just begin to masticate.
I don't even really need a reason.

#84 - Tom Jones Is My Dad
Tom Jones is my Dad
And sometimes it is embarrassing.
Sometimes it's not that bad -
I like to watch him dance and sing.
I just wish he could turn the charm down.
Like, when he flirted with Mrs Howell at parents evening.
It was the talk of the entire town.
I can still hear the sound of her suspenders going ping
As she threw her pants in our general direction
And now, at the slightest provocation
She'll give me after school detention
And ask me all about my Dad.
I guess it's all just rather sad.
Still, I hear some awful things from Sting's young lad.

#85 - Am I Welsh?
I live in the valleys
And I tend to talk to strangers.
    Am I Welsh?

I hate Welsh stereotypes
Especially the sheep thing.
    Am I Welsh?

I don't speak the language
I would quite like to learn though.
    Am I Welsh?

My Grandma lived in Conwy
Dad born in LLandudno.
    Am I Welsh?

I'm sick of constant snow,
Where did all the rain go?
    Am I Welsh?

I love to watch the rugby
I like the bit where the ref says engage (It reminds me of Star-Trek).
    Am I Welsh?

I am an adopted Welsh boy
And feel this country loves me
As though I were its own.
    Am I Welsh?

#85(b) - Welcome To South Wales
Welcome to South Wales.
Please Keep It.
Tidy.

#86 - Beard Poem No. 3
As I awoke - I knew something was wrong.
I scratched my chin and began to pace.
It didn't take me very long
To realise my beard - was no longer on my face!

My wife gave me a hug and smiled
A knowing grin that got me riled
I found my beard upon the floor
Just behind the bedroom door.

It seemed to me a frightened creature.
It cowered in the corner looking like a pile of ash
I'd named him Friedrich - after Nietzsche.
Even though Nietzsche had a large moustache.

I though - "Well, I grew it, I can fix it too"
And went to the kitchen to get some glue
I stuck it back upon my chin
It's a bit patchy and you can see bits of carpet when I grin.

Here are the latest lot of poems, some of these I think may be "keepers" will try them out on stage soon.

#72 In Hiding
I'm hiding
In a cardboard box.
Can't find me
If I sit real still
I hear you
As you look for me
I snigger
But I hold it in
You want me
To do some chores
To wash up
And to clean the floors
So find me
If you want it done
I'm hiding
In a cardboard box.

#73 Piggy
This little piggy went to market
This little piggy took drugs
This little piggy had roast beef
This little piggy had pork
This little piggy was veggie
This little piggy had fun
This little piggy had a mortgage
This little piggy was in dept
This little piggy had a city job
This little piggy was a bum
This little piggy was pervert
This little piggy was a nun
This little piggy went wee wee wee
'Cause this little piggy was stoned.

#74 Cleo
Cleo is scared of the tray
She goes and then she runs away
Because what she fears
When it disappears
Is that they will take her away too

She thinks that it is the poo fairy
A creature both smelly and scary
It steals her faeces
And uses the pieces
To make its home down in the loo

So if she stays in there too long
She thinks something's terribly wrong
And off she will go
Before he will know
And try to take her down there too.

#75 I Know a Monkey 
I know a monkey who plays the flute
He likes to dance
He likes to toot

I know a monkey who plays the maracas
Watch him go
Go like the clappers

I know a gorilla who plays the trombone
He's not in a band,
He plays on his own

I know a gerbil who can't play a thing
But damn that gerbil can't half sing.

#76 Naught But Beasts
See the flame dance
And flicker
And prance
Random yet planned
A beauty
Entrancing
It creates
In its consumption
Hungry
Yet giving in its warmth
Fatal
Although it gives life
Without it
We would be naught but beasts
Shivering in a lonely cave.