Poetry Blogs (Writing)

When I think of Carlos, 
a beautiful soul of a man, 
emotional, heartfelt poetry bleeds through 
Tears creep on the brink of every reading 
His hand held over his heart to keep it in 
He makes a mark wherever he goes 
The rhythm of his words flow 
And it leaves you speechless 
All you can mouth is ‘wow…’ 

Pondering over poems to capture what I believe in 
A work of art always in progre...

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Pen devoid of poems
adventure long overdue
living room carpet
growing long in the tooth
I’m pining for movement
so keen to get out
I’ll go walking down
to Holly Hagg

Little glimpses at normality
haloed by golden rays
There’s no poison 
in the idle river
no politics
in the quiet horse
cantering to 
another chew

The clouds of working day
part while I’m out walking
bathed in nat...

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2017 was the year I had 34 new poems published. It was also the year I realised 'published' did not equate with 'good' or even 'widely read'' For example, towards the end of that year I had a major success - a poem on a high-profile website. My twitter followers rocketed (though, let's be honest - this is poetry, so not by much). Two days later I had another poem out, one I was happy with but knew...

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Resistance is futile. 

You will not find rest

as long as I am near, 

whispering in your ear. 

STOP,  right now.

Write now. 

Talk about how 

love echoes 

in the valley of 

lost souls. 

Share your hopes, 

dreams, fears. 

I’m listening, 

channeling, 

ready to bathe you, 

in serenity. 

I am your muse, 

voice of truth, 

your...

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One Hundred Days In Plague Town

I met a man in Plague Town

With bird’s beak and a long black coat

He carried a cane in his left hand

He spoke to me and I quote:
‘Don’t travel far from your fire son

Go runaway and hide

For Fear stalks the streets of Plague Town

Some are ill and others have died’

So I went back home as he told me

And I sat and counted the days

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A misplaced comma, 

an extra apostrophe,

page numbers missing;

a million little things to fix

that ought not to

take away the aura

of the piece but make me

stop and scream

How reckless

to leave the reader in such a mess

when they should only

focus on the very best

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I’m digging through letters for clues 
For endearments that will fill my cup

They spill over and fall away
As they come in with a rush

Too many to grasp
I pick them up one by one

In hopes to hold onto
Little pieces of you

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How many love letters do I have to write before they are sent
How many hours do I spend and lament
Over the impossible dream
The one that can’t be seen
And more and more it seems
Like it’s never going to be

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A magenta sky 
greets my morning sigh.

Another majestic day, 
lost in the minutia of life.

Shoulda, coulda,woulda,
paralyzing dream sabers. 

Distractions abound.

Download another book,
refresh the poet's page.

Escape, behind a waterfall
of tears.

Long nights,
paved years. 

Fandango memories
sustain me. 

Resilience 
prevails.

Dry your eyes,
face your fears.

Wr...

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Our home, a pale blue dot in the vastness of universe's untouched beauty, a tiny, spherical world, afloat in a immensity of space and time. Here for a moment, and then we're leaving for the eternity. In the school of mortality we learn to acrobat over the abyss.
Alexis karpouzos

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Gather jumbled up thoughts
jot down some words
numerous adjectives,
superlatives, and delicious nouns

Describe the scene
that can explain
it is certainly this
but it could be better

Conjure up a lost love
hint at a depth of longing,
fulfillment, and regret
but give yourself some credit

Leave readers with faith,
love eventually wins
love yourself enough to see
yo...

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Magyk

I had a book all full of spells

Where childhood magic

Weaved its way

Between the yellowed pages

Where dragon’s breath

Set woodland glades alight

And lost children danced

With the frightened and the fey

The teeth of angry wolves

Chewed at the edges

Whilst chattering little demons

Clawed along your spine

Strange apples fell from wizene...

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You are enough. 

Insecurity or 

grandiose confidence 

isn’t necessary. 

Doubt, distraction, 

procrastination, fear, 

impostor syndrome,

borderline lunacy... 

are costs of the 

creative process.

Keep creating 

through it all.

But, then again,

what do I know.

https://youtu.be/sIaT8Jl2zpI

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The sights of ourselves still shape us to divide,
immediate response to the craves and madness,
we feel the way we feel but tonight it's you inside,
burried in the senses out of the lightness.

And days are still days but the trouble collides,
for all the reasons we chose not to revile,
and all our fears, childlish alike,
echoing through our minds, rejecting denial.

Stay where you are a...

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Not So White 

Little Snow White's daddy died 
Pretty girl cried and cried
Wicked Queen an ugly old tart 
Sent huntsman to take her heart

Huntsman took Snow for a ride 
But felt ever so guilty inside
Snow looked up and made her plea Huntsman said, ‘Go now! Be free’

He took his knife; he lit a cig 
Then cut heart out of a pig
Snow White ran he felt good 
She tripped over piece of wo...

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I want to tell you how incredibly

imaginative, creative, talented

I think you are with your poetry,

writing, music, art...

but I hesitate to expose our

eggshell-covered egos, 

fuel rejection, 

ignite impostor syndrome...

all live wires 

that threaten to electrocute

our fragile muse 

into submission 

of a numbed,

comfort-zone life. 

So, instead of shouting

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And tides are still the same as they were,
fluid numbers, one piece in folded milions,
telling us why we all need to reach the bottom,
embracing drops of broken brilliance.

Wait until it all comes down,
your whispers rest in front of the broken Avalon,
inside our shell is something we all found,
blue-red pictures reflected by the dawn.

And tides are still the same as they were,
connec...

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It's always the same New Year's resolutions for me...to write more often! Happy New Year to all ...

At First

Just a thought

Then some paper

The words

They came later

QWERTY was flirting

But kindly 

I declined

It's demand

Held a pen

In my hand

And began

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