Roaming hills pulse
As music tilts the mind
Pushing you down from the side
Ignoring the stories of you
A plan of pain
Awaiting a stark intoxication
Of Intellect stripped bear
Lights flicker in hope
A new thought
And the beat that signals a new world
I am trying to inspire myself by finding things that need poetic submissions – there are a couple of competitions I want to go for but I am tending to avoid these as they can get expensive but if you have the money it might work as a really good way to get you writing. Not because of the money but because it gives a goal.
Though I have started writing again, I am still finding it slow going compared to previous years.
There are too things happening.
I sit down with my pad and look at pictures and write and then I look at submissions and ideas mill in my head which I then write down before bed. Often these will inspire a second poem.
Geek street feel the beat
Of fingers tapping not the feet
Geek street
Where programmers meet
Turn out coding neat
Even when some still use l33t spk
That algorithm needs a tweak
Seek the answers on Geek Street
Better than star fleet
Is completing the feet
of debugging by the pants of your seat
The unweary retreat but hackings sweet
On Geek Street
Fleshy white and pink blooms cupped together
In a straggely tree that an old woman tends
Blooms that do not keep for drying or pressing
Nor steep for perfume
Large thick blooms, clumsy some would say
The ache to preserve the wonder burns
A fleeting beauty like the wrinkled hands that tend it
The edge of the map is found
But it is nothing
Just a page within an atlas
And that atlas in one of many tomes
Sitting upon the shelves
Of but one room in a library
Adventures and trails await
The explorers who think they know it all
Thinking thoughts the writer sits
Pen poised
But the words do not escape into ink
Wedged as they are within
Craniums dark gapping grasp
Maybe a pint would help
or chips
or a walk
Another day gone
The Muse – a let down once more
Ok so normally for the poem a day challenges I post each and everyday during the month but actually I want to give myself a bit more space to edit and what not so I am no longer going to be doing that! Sorry guys but you do have the archive!
This ribbon of sound
Was unbound
Splitting it was found
Twisted folded around
To make a mound
Knew which pound…
of flesh was bound
To sink down
To form the word, a sound
The ribbon of sound
Was found
A narrative of life
Bound in the unbound
This Ribbon of sound.
New and pinkly lean they stand
Wood like sentinels, puncturing jaded sky
A mockery of the trunk, craggy bark
Green coated and split within
Grass bright studded with daffodils
Covering a floor, so out of place
Against a back drop of snow drenched hills
I have a crazy crazy idea and it involves graze boxes, old text books and magazines and glue. I want to make a thick not quiet papier mache not quiet book thing with poems in metallic paint pens. I’ve already cut some pieces to size and hope to have a little go at making these… poetry books.