First things first, everything is
Relevant in love and war
Initially you must organise to
Dramatise it a little
Allow them to be drawn in, remember
You’re weekend, you’re party.
(c) Chris Black 2017.
First things first, everything is
Relevant in love and war
Initially you must organise to
Dramatise it a little
Allow them to be drawn in, remember
You’re weekend, you’re party.
(c) Chris Black 2017.
It really is great to be alive
Rising and shining
Waiting eagerly for interaction
With what the day will bring.
Always keeping an ear to the ground
Listening for those perplexed voices
Which are bound to emerge from ensuing fog
Out of such fog, windows of light will emerge.
Clouds will lift.
A veil will be drawn back.
Clearing the forest of thoughts to allow light in
As we proceed through the woods, cross the streams
Evading as best we can
The occasional hornet’s nest.
Slamming no doors on the way.
Before all the deals of the day are closed
Remembering that in all walks of life
As much as we would like them to be
Everything is not always black and white.
(c) Chris Black 2017.
What do I call this?
With seventeen syllables
A haiku perhaps?
(c) Chris Black 2017.
Gather around
as words abound.
The thought process
trying hard to process
anything that might grace a page
not be ashamed to take the stage
now, step out in the spotlight
never stage left
disregard stage freight
confidence in your work
will bring results
be of little doubt.
Fifty word inspiration.
(c) Chris Black 2017.
I sat motionless in my car as the vehicle which had been parked on a slight incline just moments earlier gathered a little speed.
Taking my eyes off the black silver chromed car to insert the keys in the ignition, the thud indicated contact.
Ouch, a tow bar had introduced itself to the drivers door.
(c) Chris Black 2017.
Watching in awe as
Sun dappled the mountain
Elsewhere tragedy
(c) Chris Black 2017.
Say it with flowers
After all
Tomorrow is mothers day
Usually this poem should be posted tomorrow
Reality does at times bite
Days morph into one another
And you are made to jump the gun
You’ll forgive me for being premature I hope, Happy Mothers Day to mothers all.
(c) Chris Black 2017.
Jean was well used to his antics, paying scant attention once they were home alone.
Mark could well negotiate stairs, go from room to room, naked as a jay bird without ever stubbing his toe.
She never ceased to be intrigued at his co-ordination.
This particular weekend they had a group of friends over for a birthday celebration.
Copious amounts of drink was consumed and the meals also went down a treat, a good time was had by all.
It was late into the night when they retired, Jean was out for the count as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Waking next morning she found Mark missing from her bed – she found him stretched out on a couch downstairs wrapped in a bathrobe – she never owned a PINK bathrobe?
Peeling it off him quicker than you would peel an orange – SHOCK HORROR, he was found to be wearing a G-string.
The party was now turning out to be a nightmare, shaking him awake – he couldn’t explain this away with the excuse I must have been sleep walking.
Just then from the lounge area appeared a vision – the owner of the bathrobe dressed in a fancy dress chicken outfit…
(c) Chris Black 2017.
March many weathers
Rain, hailstone, bitter cold biting wind
Is this really Spring?
(c) Chris Black 2017.
Lightening, Frightening
Struck the beast
Sheltering from the storm
Under the long standing beech.
Forked lightening
Appeared to penetrate
The stone wall of the old farm house
Struck home at the heart of the family.
The sheepdog lying
with head resting on outstretched paws
not knowing that his work was done.
(c) Chris Black 2017.
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