Who Grows Poetry?

Does poetry grow the poet - or the poet, poetry?

I’ve thought about this many times it often puzzles me

When William Butler Yeats sat thinking in his writing chair

I wonder what inspired “cloths of heaven” to appear.. 

Those sonnets from Neruda, all those odes to love and life

were lovingly created because he adored his wife

I think most poetry’s triggered by experiencing life -

- by times of sad, and times of glad, of turmoil and of strife?

Reading through the history of those poets now long gone

The more I read their poetry the more I get turned on

But one day if the question ever should be asked of me

Did poetry grow you poet? Or did you grow poetry?

I’ll pause just for an instant before I simply smile and say

“I haven’t found the answer yet so kindly go away”….

The Gift of Quiet

Out in that nothingness where silent lives

Inside the serenity that it gives

Warmed by that quiet filled nothingness space

That’s where my thoughts find their own special place

There they find solace in sweet meditation 

Turning those thoughts into sweet inspiration

Clearing reality out of my mind

Clutter of living all left far behind

So beautiful in its simplicity

Feeling my karma empowering me

Surrendering to an ethereal song

Finally back where I truly belong

Echoes of living, retreat with the day

Dark creeps in slowly as light slips away

Setting a process for thoughts to take flight

Tranquility touches the silence of night

Summer (a nonet)

Floating on my back in the ocean

Sun nice and warm upon my face

Seabirds flying overhead

Ocean peaceful and calm

Summer holidays

are here again

and that means

life is

sweet

A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second line eight syllables, the third line seven syllables, etc... until line nine finishes with one syllable. It can be on any subject and rhyming is optional.

Sunset (a septolet)

Sun

setting low

below the horizon

farewells day

Twilight

filtering in

welcomes the night

The septolet is a poem consisting of 7 lines containing 14 words with a break in between the 2 parts. Both parts deal with the same thought and create a picture. 

A Moment Please

Oh tell me something please because I really want to know

Just where in actuality do all our moments go?

I know they must go somewhere because they were really here

But what’s the next stage of their journey when they disappear

I’ve taken to breaking my life down to each basic part

Believe me it’s not easy – I found problems at the start

It does become a passion once you find the right beginning

Sometimes with little successes I even break out singing

But seriously folks there are some things can be quite deep

In fact - I kid you not, it’s often difficult to sleep

I made a promise to myself one day long, long ago

To live life in the moment and to just go with its’ flow

And for the most part it has been great I’ve had no need to doubt

But now I feel there’s more to it that I have to find out

So if there is a font of wisdom in my universe

That has a meaningful response to this accursed curse

I’d be so very grateful as my cyber hugs will show

Oh tell me pretty please where do those bloody moments go?

The "Dark" Side

Shoes dangling
from high wires
draw the eye..
squealing tyres
nearby..

just ahead kids
pour out of park
some still be there
come dark..

in their hoodies
drinking, fighting
…on fences writing
 In the park
After dark
Broken glass,
smoking grass

Up the road, out of sight
voices raised, family fight
Money lost
on the slots
 Sound of slap, crying
Dishes flying..

Normal day in the ‘hood
It’s all good…
Nothing new & 
right on cue
Prowling through…the boys in blue