On The Job (Fuck Me): Shadorma

ON THE JOB (FUCK ME)

Poet’s job
To spark and nurture
Both free thought
And open
Emotion, even open
Doors to other realms

Poets Out Loud: Four By Six

POETS OUT LOUD

Let’s share our poetry
For without that I fear
It might quickly descend
Into onanism

Unfinished Love Poem

UNFINISHED LOVE POEM

Lay it aside for a while
Maybe days or weeks
Sometimes even years

Till all falls into place
A significant poem will
Always find its moment

And in that moment
Their writer will also
Find a completeness

Those not significant
Reveal themselves as such
And are easily thrown away

Poet As In A Mirror: Tanka

POET AS IN A MIRROR

Inspire me please
Saying the unexpected
Revealing your deeps
Encouraged by your courage
To write something worth reading

Poet’s Morning

POET’S MORNING

Sipping early tea
Savouring another’s words
Fresh inspiration
Old farmer ploughs his meadow
Rich tang of freshly turned soil

Another Another

ANOTHER ANOTHER

Reaching out for …
… no response
Left in limbo
Hung out to dry

Fed on assumptions
Clutching at straws
Mighty thin gruel
Sans nourishment

The best? … Insufficient
While not at all sure of
Understanding the rules
(A longstanding habit)

A kindly silver lining
When the smoke clears
When the pain has dulled
A poem lurking in there

Marching Or Hobbling?

MARCHING OR HOBBLING?

Time’s mysterious mysteries
Reveal themselves slowly
And only a bit at a time
Just as shy teen maidens

Poesy, its heralds likewise
Sweet William and daffodils
Shook Shakespeare awake
Romantics now called the shots!

This town today, Cockermouth
Resonates with connections
Largely leapfrogging steam
Safely retaining its fertility

Presently social mediates creation
Advising: seek Like or Comment
Masked insidious cattle prods
Torchbearers disdain and bleed

No past nor future not imaginary
Writer, reader, listener one breath
Caught riding the crest of the wave
In hopes of grasping immanence

Me As Esme

ME AS ESME

Meanders Esme
As cloud she says
More like to as planet
A stone(d) throw(n) away
A queenly throne bestowed
From whence at whim descend
As yet unthought, as unlikely
Words plucked betimely
Mischievous bedfellows
Beckoning pause for
Notions embowelled
Beneath the bric-à-brac
Littering the quotidian
Out-the-box conjectures
Jasmin sweet upon the air
Breathe deeply and sigh
Momentous moment
Immortalised, free

~~~~~ ~ ~~~~~

ADVERT

You may well enjoy and find nourishment in Esme’s Cloud: https://sonmicloud.wordpress.com/

Mary Oliver: In Memoriam

MARY OLIVER: IN MEMORIAM

Flesh and bone may decay
Her words, all the thoughts
All the feelings they evoke
Shall remain to nourish us

Poems Lead Poets

POEMS LEAD POETS

This poem as emerged is actually
far more bitter and anguished
than its writer. Or far less …
What the hell. Let’s let it go;
it’s just the way it grew.

The initial germ here sprouted out
from a piece of Sarah’s weeks ago
that somehow caught my interest.
I’d have trouble locating it now;
it’s transmorphed completely.

Laboured at it for hours; it wouldn’t let go.
Clearly it’s determined to have its say.
As for you, happening by readers
looking out for an explanation
dream on, friends, dream on.