Dear followers and friends of my poetry website; wishing you all, a happy and creative “WORLD POETRY DAY” … “Let the earth bear witness” – – William B Yeats (1916)
when I swim at the surf beach and dive deep down the eerie fullness of my silent surroundings enhances the volume of those submersed thoughts floating within my mind
Over at Weekly Prompts, the Wednesday Challenge is Ragged. Please visit their fabulous site by clicking on >> Here As you might gather from my poem, I am feeling very “ragged around the edges” … I have been hectically busy preparing for the ‘Clunes Booktown’ Festival this weekend …
Am I The Pilot?
What motivates me? To walk so many miles Despite the aches and pains
What compels me? To write every day Despite my crusty old brain
What drives me? Over life’s valleys and mountains Despite yesterday’s hard rain
Will I still be the pilot? Of tomorrow’s mystery flight Despite missing tonight’s plane
Hello, dear readers and followers. I write for Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) fortnightly, and my poem “Hungry Crows” (a Pantoum) is in this week’s edition. … To read my poem, please click on the link below to visit the article, at Coffee House Writers Magazine. >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/hungry-crows/
Hungry Crows (a Pontoum); is my metaphorical interpretation of the ‘infamous’ White House meeting between President Zelensky and President Trump
A Pantoum, Poetry Format
Stanza 1: 4 lines, ABAB rhyme scheme
Stanza 2: Line 5 (repeat of line 2 in stanza 1) Line 6 (new line) Line 7 (repeat of line 4 in stanza 1) Line 8 (new line)
Stanza 3: Last Stanza (This is the format for the last stanza regardless of how many preceding stanzas exist): Line 9 (line 2 of the previous stanza) Line 10 (line 3 of the first stanza) Line 11 (line 4 of the previous stanza) Line 12 (line 1 of the first stanza)
“My Back Pages” Lyrics by Bob Dylan
Crimson flames tied through my ears Rollin’ high and mighty traps Pounced with fire on flaming roads Using ideas as my maps “We’ll meet on edges, soon,” said I Proud ‘neath heated brow Ah, but I was so much older then I’m younger than that now.
Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth “Rip down all hate,” I screamed Lies that life is black and white Spoke from my skull, I dreamed Romantic facts of musketeers Foundationed deep, somehow Ah, but I was so much older then I’m younger than that now.
Girls’ faces formed the forward path From phony jealousy To memorizing politics Of ancient history Flung down by corpse evangelists Unthought of, though, somehow Ah, but I was so much older then I’m younger than that now.
A self-ordained professor’s tongue Too serious to fool Spouted out that liberty Is just equality in school “Equality,” I spoke their word As if a wedding vow Ah, but I was so much older then I’m younger than that now.
In a soldier’s stance, I aimed my hand At the mongrel dogs who teach Fearing not I’d become my enemy In the instant that I preach My existence led by confusion boats Mutiny from stern to bow Ah, but I was so much older then I’m younger than that now.
Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats Too noble to neglect Deceived me into thinking I had something to protect Good and bad, I define these terms Quite clear, no doubt, somehow Ah, but I was so much older then I’m younger than that now.
Over at Weekly Prompts, the Wednesday Challenge is the word Stodgy. You can visit their fabulous site by clicking on >> Here My poem “Flying Among the Clouds” is definitely not Stodgy.
Flying Among the Clouds
I’m flying high Cruising among the clouds Fly with me And the rest of my flock Up here There’s no need for a clock
Time gives no commands Cruising among the clouds Silently overseeing the crowd
Time always flies At the same standard pace There, in that space Between daytime’s silvery moon And twilight’s glittery sun
“Home grown tomatoes, home grown tomatoes What would life be like without homegrown tomatoes Only two things that money can’t buy That’s true love and home grown tomatoes.” ~ John Denver
Six Shades of Red
My small sweet bite tomatoes Progressively ripen through six stages
Green – the little fruit is completely green
Breakers – a slightly tarnished yellow
Turning – between orangy yellow and pink
Pink – like a teenager … still some growing up to do
Light Red – almost dressed and ready to go out
Red – bright cherry red and delightfully delicious
Today’s Throwback poem does not appear on my website, but I saw it by chance in my Tullawalla Booklet, No. 24, I Softly Walk, from July 2021. So now “Our Random Kingdom” is officially on my website.
Our Random Kingdom
Sometimes we put pieces away Because our emotions altered the next day But the thoughts are there to stay And arise again to be an honest display
The whispering wind is an elusive creature Mother nature’s operatic music teacher Our random sculptor’s hands of life Shaping our fate with her palate knife
That damn old clock never stops Not even for a pause To chat with Santa Claus Even Father Time’s sundial shadow Enternally works every tomorrow But let me say, there will come a day When love will be here to stay
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 