At War with my thoughts.

Murder and Mayhem.

  1. C. J. Black

Write a ‘Dark’ poem – I don’t imagine I could-

A poem that would make you shed, tears as red as blood

I have never attempted to write a poem of this kind-

But to add another string to my bow, should I feel inclined?

 

A poem, about the slaughter of the innocent worldwide

Or the murder and the mayhem closer to home – hard to decide

Is it right to stand in judgement of the actions of another?

How can a son or daughter take a knife and kill their mother?

 

Planting a bomb, never giving any thought

Of the end result – families left distraught

A suicide bomber on a crowded street

A promise at the time of death – virgins they will meet?

 

Surely those who are called to perform such an evil deed

Realise the consequences of their actions, whether they fail or succeed.

In times of war who defines who is your enemy?

Is the word peace written out of the war-lords dictionary?

 

The civilian on the street who then dons a uniform

What possesses them to go and kill – it’s really not the norm.

Do those sitting in their ivory towers-

Feel the pain and suffering inflicted by their powers.

 

Write a ‘Dark’ poem, I doubt I was built for this would you agree?

But not to try and express myself would be remiss of me.

  1. C. J. Black©β Friday, 03 July 2015 http://www.chrisblack2012.com

 

Raise your chalice to-

A Host of Words.

  1. C. J. Black.

As I sit here at my alter

I contemplate, on whether I will alter –

This page I am about to cover with tiny sentences –

When I awaken from this beautiful dream and come to my senses.

 

Will I remember word for word this poems contents?

Write it down Verbatim in a language which presents –

To those who take the time, to listen or to read

Believe, like me that what is written is what was decreed?

 

For once we reach for our writing implement

In our mind we should be quite content –

That whatever pours out onto this page

Was meant to mentally engage.

 

When we read the works of others or listen to the spoken word

We all come away with differing aspects – there is no writing which is absurd

As we write, each one of us use a different structure

Which looms large and is indeed for posterity – a piece of beautiful architecture.

 

Everyday a new poem arrives to add to my repertoire

One day hopefully I can write a classic, in proper poetic dialect?

Moving as it were from paragraph to paragraph

Like chess pieces, moving words until I form a proper graph.

 

Sentences start out like trees in winter

Bare – like the skeleton, skinless

But as writing begins to flow

Your page comes alive – begins to show

The plot come alive – begin to grow.

The plot you have tended has garnered new fruit

Presenting itself to the outside world, still – as a Van Gogh painting.

 

  1. C. J. Black©β

 

www.chrisblack2012.com

A proper joker.

Worth every penny?

  1. C. J. Black.

Today was a nonsense writing day

Which left my brain frazzled and me in disarray

I started out with a perfect line?

Which of this poem I hoped would be its spine.

 

But I soon found myself running out of track

With no chance in the world of turning back

Where to from here the little voice screamed

This dilemma would have to be somehow redeemed.

 

Speaking with forked tongue is something I do well

A lie to you, would I ever tell?

A proper diamond in the rough

My forte is, hang in tough.

 

Writing nonsense, is a skill in itself?

One day perhaps my nonsense book will adorn a shelf?

Purchase it if you are able

When read, use it to prop up your wonky coffee table!

 

Pulling the pin in this hand grenade

Leaves me totally dismayed

The realisation has just hit me of what I have achieved

I’ve just completed a proper nonsense poem, I feel so relieved.

 

  1. C. J. Black©β

www.chrisblack2012.com

 

 

 

Giving this poem a pulse.

While the heart is still beating.

 

There are poems which should be read ‘Sotto Voce’

This perhaps is such a poem – I so enjoy word play!

 

I must try and craft a poem-

If only I could find a place to start.

Perhaps the ideal place would be

To look inside my heart.

 

I am but flesh and blood

With thoughts that appear, some bad, others good.

So I never know when I sit to write

Whether my words on a page will offend or delight.

 

But to express such thoughts I feel duty bound

Irrespective of how they sound.

Once I have laid them on a page

I release them, perhaps it’s you they were meant to engage?

  1. C. J. Black©β

chrisblack2012.com

 

 

 

 

Empty wallet syndrome.

Screwing the system

If only one could find a job

Earn oneself an honest bob

Give up this being on the dole

Dig oneself out of this black hole

Unemployment is a drag

Being on the dole is not my bag

Rising in the morning with nothing to do

Is it any wonder that the system some people screw?

Unemployment destroys the soul

It’s an embarrassment for many to be on the dole

It’s not that people are afraid of work

They also recoil when referred to as a jerk

So politicians, you with all your clout

Remember its work we want and not your manufactured hand out.

C.J. Black©β

chrisblack2012.com

 

 

 

A Rose by any other name.

Dressed in petals pink.

What a pose this summer rose

Standing most exquisite

Outstanding there among the thorns

Dressed in petals pink

Basking in the summer sun

Honeysuckle bee alights

Takes a sample then takes flight

Returns again spends some extra time

A picture that is so divine

To sit relaxed in a wicker chair

In summer months without a care

Inhaling the sweet perfume

Of summer roses in full bloom.

 

C.J. Black©β

chrisblack2012.com