Blog Archives

Lightly Felt Tips (Republished)

LIGHTLY FELT TIPS

When you learn to distinguish
between what is truly good in poetry
(especially your own)
and what is – shall we say – not so good
then you are almost there.

The rest is just practice, daring,
risk taking and self confidence.
Satisfying yourself is the foundation.
Rules are there to follow or break;
pleasing others a welcome bonus.

So leave the back door wide open
and invite the Musey Lady in for a brew.
She loves to take a load off.
If she’s silent, it’s only ‘cos she’s thinking.
She’s just observing, sipping her tea.

Sultry

SULTRY

Please forgive our words
She’s having her way with me
We’re lost far at sea

The Writer’s Code

THE WRITER’S CODE

Unflinchingly support
All those who soldier on
Striving against the tide
Building a sane future

Wavingnweaving

WAVINGNWEAVING

Waving to weavers
While weaving while wondering
Why weave and why why
While weaving while wandering
Wondering, weaving, waving

~~~~~~~~~~~

This is dedicated to all readers who are also writers, and especially those who may be called – by themselves or by others – poets.

Iambic I Am

IAMBIC I AM

I lie awake
(Hopefully)
Within iambic

I spring (Yeah right)
To wakefulness
Within iambic

The poet’s life
Spread forward like a map
I am therefore iambic

Anthology (30a)

ANTHOLOGY

Gathered here
Layers of one’s life
Sliced sidewise
Unexposed
Sundry interpretations
One for each poem

~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadorma November

Spellmeister (21b)

SPELLMEISTER

Lets go words
Lets go images
String quartets
Pirouettes
Drops intent, spins and teases
Patterns from chaos

~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadorma November

The Wee Hours (20a)

THE WEE HOURS

Three o’clock
Bells ring and all’s well
Up early
Early start
And it’s shoulder to the wheel
Keeping life at bay

~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadorma November

Less Is More (5b)

LESS IS MORE

Shadorma
A poetic form
At its best
Singular
Or so I have decided
Experimenting
~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadorma November

Margaret III

MARGARET III

Someone once
(pontificating)
Announced that all my poems
Were merely songs

But then
She was ridden by demons so I
(mostly)
forgave her

%d bloggers like this: