Thoughts ….. float ….. forth.
Unconsciously conjured from etheric darkness. Transmuting into gems, to be raked, graded and sequenced.
Strings
Uncoil, undulate,
Knot.
Repeated until magnum opus’ in hand;
Orators inspire,
Dictators demand.
In comparison, soft speakers mouth and utter.
Unheard messages left fading
….. into….. soulful….. silence.
I recently met a writer in a non-authoring situation. After completing a little background reading on them, I decided it was time.
I enjoy writing poems, but are they any good? When viewed through Olumide Holloway’s creative writing lens (Word Up), they mostly suck.
In the spirit of reflective self improvement I have revisited one of my ditties.
On a side note I learned that shaking the iPhone, in frustration, allowed me to undo the accidental deletion of said poem.
Tinsel
Polyvinyl chloride sparkle, eons in the making;
Irresponsibly procured, a token,
In an intergenerational
Treasure hunt for more,
now strewn.
Destined to voyage and become entwined,
In a grotesque ocean whirl.
To disintegrate and be consumed by
Zooplankton and coral; the primordial source.
Reports abound of microplastic laden seafood, served upon the plate.
Will it lead to ecocide and humanity’s suicide? Scientists debate.
Let me know if you think it is an improvement on the original, below, or not.
Incongruous
Beneath a hedge
Beyond leaf litter and bark
Draped over twigs
The blue tinsel-tousle dwells
Spherical pale pink buds, smaller than peas;
Row upon row, silently waiting, in lines.
Forming grape like bunches,
Until flowering time.
When memories stir,
Confused feelings occur.
Of a time gone by;
Thoughts of emotions, running high.
Attached to people and things:
Two chairs; a desk; a book of secrets sings;
Remonstrations falling on deaf ears.
The screams inside that nobody hears,
Due to naivety, self delusion and grief.
Nothing seems to bring relief,
A spiralling descent away from light.
No energy to fight nor for flight.
Time and life have healed the blight.
Knowing and accepting myself, day and night,
And my partner’s love and support,
During battles waged and darkness fought.
Artificial flowery, powdery and citrusy fragrances reach nostrils, setting sinuses a flutter. ‘Clean’ smells of soaps, deodorants and perfumes from those, en route.
Early morning sunshine dazzles the reluctant traveller, on their way to work. Hazy buildings line the route, neither in shadow or in light.
Fellow passengers gaze, blankly, silently, caught up in their thoughts and phones.
How strange, this world of written and unwritten regulation and repetition.
Photo: Electrical Engineering Building, UNSW
The trees in Sydney are catching on to the fact that it is Winter.
Winter warmth of russet, orange,
Red, and some brown ‘gainst sky of blue;
Sluggish words rolling off the tongue;
Round sounds linger in the crisp air.
Contrasts:
Corner of Higson Lane and Little Flinders Lane eclipsing the Chanel store, Melbourne, Australia.
Knight in white shining armour
I humbly offer thanks for
Rescuing me from storm’s grip.
Although wind did whirl and whip,
With torrential rain pouring.
Chill of sodden clothes gnawing;
Welcome sight to see your face.
Now dry in warmth of your embrace.
During periods of drought
And feelings of self doubt,
I lack inspiration, become a lout.
It helps to go out and about;
Amble, absorb and tout.
Passers by glimpse the pout.
Frustration mounts.
Just want to scream, to shout,
To wake myself up with a clout;
Still fruitless at every bout.
Can’t call myself poet devout.
At times there are ideas I should flout.
Use notebooks to record, later rout them out.
Now noises drown thoughts out
Needing and urging result in nowt.
It’s enough to bring on one’s gout!
Past coolest shadows of darkest black
A hallway beckons
Green hues resplendent in morning light
