Blog Archives

To Not To Be

TO NOT TO BE

Shakespeare left nothing
Beyond his art; his life was
Immaterial

Wielding

WIELDING

Does a pen know what words to use?
Surely it is only the wielder of the pen.
And does a writer know what tale to tell?
This wielding business when examined
Surely begs a few questions of its own.

Self-publishing

SELF-PUBLISHING

Looks like it’s not sufficient to be clever
You can still end up in the lost-and-found
You can split the scene or stand your ground
It’s been that way since forever
No rock solid link to Spirit whatsoever
None of our conjectures are too sound
You hit multilingual traps, rebound
Somersault screaming, “Never!”

Yet how to survive in a dull world while sharp
And not end up in the lost-and-found still
Whether giving in or refusing to budge?

An open verdict, an absentee judge
Endlessly replaying “The World According To Garp”
You can read on the scoreboard the result: Nil Nil

Toast To Authors

TOAST TO AUTHORS

Fruits fresh from much foraging
Picked out and picked over
For browsing, brooding, brewing
Through fermentation, evaporation
Concentration and distillation

The initial insipid tipple
Of the mundane commonplace
Emerges new born from the nib
Or more likely these days
The fingertips and screen

Fortified and now 100 proof
So savour slowly this potent elixir
That our writers have pored over
And now pour for us freely
So pause and drink their health

Calliope’s Children

CALLIOPE’S CHILDREN

You stoke and provoke
Open up countless chasms
Too vast to orate
Conjuring such wild answers
Few are they who dare reply

Wanda

WANDA

Wanda’s wandering
In the woods of words
So many trees
Manitou
Too many to count

Wandering
Wondering
Lost count long ago
Lost in the tick of tock
The tock of tick

The time in between
Ticks and tocks – Spaced out
Neither here nor there
A leaf, a tear, a smile
Who’s to say

Who’s to say
A leaf, a tear, a smile
Neither here nor there
Ticks and tocks – Spaced out
The time in between

The tock of tick
Lost in the the tick of tock
Lost count long ago
Wondering
Wandering

Too many to count
Manitou
So many trees
In the woods of words
Wanda’s wandering

Ah, But Then …

AH, BUT THEN …

Ah! Wordless Wednesday.
I’d explain it but … No words!
(I’m stuck in Tuesday.)

Two-way Street

TWO-WAY STREET

Creation flows forth
In fresh illumination
Out there; in here too.

Forever Amber

FOREVER AMBER
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….For Roger Z
Seeing nothing
Beyond pattern
Superimposed

Do I care for you
Or is it I care more for
My caring for you gone?

Proceeding unhindered
Playing a game
For a while

A different game
A different while
The same play

Where an author lurks
There are no accidents
But pattern-spun plot

And shadows …

Another

ANOTHER

Another page then
Savaged, ravaged

No pristine virgin
No fallow field

Tell me for why
Is it just rattling

The bars of the cage
Of this our language

Busy busy restraining
Our breathless words

For after all, for after all
Who was it, who was it

Put the me in meaning
Or the em in poem?