Blog Archives
À La Mcluhan: Cinqku
À LA McLUHAN
Writing
In white ink
On white paper
Made what she had to say
Quite clear
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
Reality Television
REALITY TELEVISION
Creative writers
Drownded deep in surroundings
Every word just right
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/
Born Marking Time
BORN MARKING TIME
Pens stroke paper as
Fingers caress keyboards as
Writers slowly die
Owning Up
OWNING UP
Each of these poems
Is intended to be best
Read aloud … For why?
For I love the sounds
So build each piece
With sound in mind
As well as meaning
Plus any reference
For I love word play
Adore ambivalence
And multiple levels
Of tacit meaning
The writer invites
The reader invents
Becomes co-creator
In passing the time
Ongoing Creation
ONGOING CREATION
Inhabit your life until it creaks, cracks open
Loudly ringing for a change – for transition
Hopefully, dutifully – inspirationally calling
Out to each and every reader passing by
In time words appear … “Beautiful poem.”
You reply: “Thanks for your kind words.”
