His life too full to ponder being careful The world and its mother knew this to be the case There are far worse things than having a busied life Such as November days filled with death and despair. A light above the mahogany door Glistened on the white gravel. He stepped outside, the bleakness of […]
Tag: #amwriting
An instinctive jab of pen on paper.
Across this blank page his fingers move Make indentations in each groove Sowing seeds between each line. At the outset he has many muddled thoughts Which at times realise naught Set aside, at a later time they will be resurrected. In the future into poems injected. Sewn into the fabric of a page May give […]
Pills a necessity, not a cure.
Today he wrote without the sound of words He wrote to the beat of a silent heart Relaxed, satisfied there would be an end result. It has been awhile since he felt the need to write Pain has been an affliction. Now he did not have to force the application Merely take pen in hand […]
Always the bitter word
Back in the cockpit once again Feel the comfort of paper and pen Following a deserved holiday in Gran Canaria Wonderful time spent in a beautiful area One couldn’t fail but have a a relaxing time 30 degrees of glorious sunshine Back now to the winter of discontent Listening to politicians who are hell bent […]
Pottering among his books
Another October day With all seasons in it Rain falling out of sunlight Damping fields of frost. A day such as this In the outlands Autumn leaves Their weight causing drains to overflow. Unpredictable weather patterns Allow him invent landscapes to fit the day As he awaits the creeping darkness And the sky threatens a […]
This is his medicine
His life’s blood demands freedom
Imagine learning, the art of falling.
The “ordinary” poem is not ordinary Beauty at all times lies in eye of the beholder Not everyone gives a hoot About the difficulties the poet finds themselves in But there is beauty in the hoot of the night owl. Poetry from The ManShed 13/10/19
A wind-chilled morning.
The cold forbidding wind Cut him to the core Difficult to see through streaming eyes He knows this stretch of beach Like the lines on the palms of his hands It holds no fears, yet he gives it full respect He hears the crashing of the sea Listens for the sound of birds in flight […]
Feel the need, then sow the seed.
One thing he taught himself through the years, never allow insecurity end in tears
Still, the moon stared.
It is an Autumn day, in Wexford
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