Originally posted on Inside The Poet's Mind:
Recently in Canada Railway workers went on strike. The primary concerns were not money, but safety concerns regarding shift length and rest periods. The sides recently agreed to resolve the issues through mediation, but this only came after the Federal Government threatened back to work legislation. Back to work legislation is only supposed to be used for essential services. I do not see Railway Workers as an essential service because there are other modes of transport. The government wanting to legislate Railway Workers back to work regardless of the safety concerns raised by the union I find hypercritical especially given the tragedy of Lac Megantic, Quebec. The Federal Government passed legislation that does nothing to improve rail safety as companies do not need to declare potentially hazardous materials to towns through which the cargo will pass until after it has passed whereas prior to the accident they did not have…
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Originally posted on 365 And Counting:
Shut the f*ck up already. Really. Your incessant repetition of nothing is so getting on my nerves. The endless speculation that goes nowhere. The constant questions. The meaningless questions. The ever-growing stream of ‘experts’ who have no answers because there are no answers. Your relentless prying and probing and the never-ending exploitation of people’s sadness and grief. Please. Stop.
Enough already. Give it a rest.
It’s bad enough when there’s a snowstorm and your poor, unfortunate, frost-bitten reporters are sent hither, thither and yon to freeze their asses off, so you can keep tabs on how high the snow drifts are. Or when a plane goes down.
You just can’t get enough of the gory details. Over and over and over and over again you ask what it must have been like to be a passenger on that plane as it spun out of control and it became
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Writing 201: Journey. On the menu today; Journeys, Limericks and alliteration.
As I Journey through this poem
Allowing my mind to freely roam
I may just come up with a gem
Words which fit, if I remember them
But then again maybe not
Then on my copybook I’ll leave a blot
Walk away not quite frustrated
Perhaps a little agitated?
Tried to write a Limerick once
But of sense I haven’t an ounce
Good I have fleeting feet
Can run a mile from defeat
Tried to write a Limerick once?
There was an old man from Japan
Who tried to fry fish on a pan?
I thought it quite odd
When he said, yes its cod
It need not make sense – but must scan?
I tried writing a Limerick and failed
On these words was firmly impaled
But write one I will
I won’t stop until
I’ve writing Limericks nailed.
Am I improving as I go along?
Could I be in line for a gong?
A Limerick Bafta
That’s what I’m “Afta”
On stage is where I belong?
Now that I’m on a roll
And look like I’m reaching my goal
A Limerick I’ll write
Out of pure spite
Might even one critic extol?
From writing Limericks I thought I’d refrain
Then I thought, what then would I gain
So decided why not
Give it a second shot
“Limericks” could drive you insane?
By putting these “Limericks” on show
Just proves how little I know –
About, writing I guess
But onward I’ll press
Undaunted, my trumpet I’ll blow.
I’m not a feather plucker, I’m a feather puckers’ son.
I rattled my bottles in Hollick’s yard, my bottles I rattled in Hollick’s yard.
Red leather, Yellow leather.
- J. Black©β
Tuesday, 17 February 2015
Today let’s write a poem about water. And/or haiku. And/or use a simile.
As black as the hobs of hell.
Whiskey and water
For some is the perfect mix
On the rocks for me.
Water, Water everywhere
Not a drop to drink.
White horses at sea
Water is their drive.
Water is life’s source
You can exist without food?
Always carry a hip flask!
- C. J. Black©β
Monday, 16 February 2015
- C. J. Black.
I’m just about to retire for the night, but before I do
Here’s a little poem I’d like to share with you
I’m making it up as I go along, which for me is nothing new
For if you knew how I operate, you would know this to be true
I rarely set out with a plan in mind of what I’m about to write
For if I did that nothing would be done, I’m really not that bright?
I much prefer to take quill in hand allow the mind to wander
Something will eventually come to mind as I sit and ponder
There will be a eureka moment once I give it time
Words will begin to fall into place, they will even start to rhyme
More times than not I am astounded at what flows from my quill
You’d imagine that I sat at my desk just writing words at will?
Well I’ll let you in on a little secret before this poem I close
This is far easier in my opinion than attempting to write prose
If you ever get to read this poem, it might surprise to know
That I just started writing it only ten minutes ago
I’m just about to retire for the night, so I’ll bid you sweet dreams
Getting this out of my system will stop me having nightmares.
- C. J. Black©β
Wednesday, 04 February 2015 http://www.chrisblack2012.wordpress.com
Originally posted on sonofthemountains:
Is looking up
Seeing a plethora of stars
Is thinking about how small you are
How much of a drop in the bucket
Each and every second is
And Cherishing them all the more
Can only be seen
Away from all the noise
The Lights of cities and towns
The backbuzz of interstates
Free from the reminders of people
Well removed from infringing distractions
Is easily understood
Just beyond the treeline
Just above the dewpoint
A hair outside the city limits
Way out yonder past the caution light
Where no one knows where you are
Is deep within each of us
When we catch the light off a wet leaf
When we see that new shape in the cloud
When we find stars we never saw before
If we can focus on the intangible
Only then can we float and drift toward
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- C. J. Black
To-day, I decided from writing to take the day off
Deciding to have some me time, no need to scoff
Do I pass remark when you decide to lie in?
Both of us find our own way to relax – it really is no sin.
Whatever is the task, you wish to take a break from
You’ll find something else to occupy your mind @someting.com
As for me I much prefer, a long leisurely walk
People look askance at me as out loud to myself I talk.
Even though I take time out and rest my trusty quill
My mind is constantly, churning out words at will-
Which must you know be dictated for fear of being lost
There are poems which must be saved, I believe at any cost.
So I guess I don’t really ever take time out, if I am being truthful
For without the written word to urge me on, life would be less than fruitful
As long as this heart keeps beating and blood runs through these veins
I’ll continue somehow to write, I’m not ready yet to tighten those reins.
- C. J. Black©β
Saturday, 31 January 2015