Haiku x 4

An eerie feeling

Sitting here with pen in hand

Deserted by words

 

This cannot be real

He jotted in his note pad

Deserted by words

 

This voice he heard said

I wish to tell you something

You’ll wake from this sleep

 

You can start anew

Then sitting with pen in hand

Make that incision

(c) Chris Black. November 2017.

 

 

 

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Cycle of life

DSCF2062See the trees with skeletal frame

looking limp and rather frail

when colours fade and leaves begin falling

still they stand quite exposed

naked and without any clothes

dreading the time of snow and frost

when all dignity is lost

Wintertime can be so harsh.

 

But come springtime

when they again begin to flourish

and nature it begins to nourish

in summer months they’re in full bloom

autumn alas will arrive too soon.

(c) Chris Black.

A poem from my book of poetry and short stories.

Anyone looking for a stocking filler you are welcome

to drop by https://chrisblack2012.com shop at your leisure.

 

Poems From the Heron Clan V Submissions

Relish Poetry

The Heron Clan anthology is now up to it’s fifth installment of poets surrendering their voices and stories for many to read. We’d love for you to be apart it!

Guidelines and Details
• Submit up to 5 poems in a ONE word document to: Kjamesbooks@gmail.com
• There is NO theme
• All poetic forms are welcome
• Previously published poems are allowed; however, the poems must have acknowledgements attached (where was it previously published?)
• Deadline: November 30th, 2017
• We will get back to you about our decision in January, 2018.
• Publication date is set for April 2018.

Good Luck! 

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The Old People Said

Kevin Connelly

The old people said… 

illness runs in families.

They knew who was likely

to have heart or lung disease,

who might yet be afflicted.

The old people said…

when someone had an operation

things often became worse,

as if the body being opened

the cure became the problem.

The old people said…

the time would come

when you wouldn’t

know the seasons

but by the leaves on the trees.

The old people said

these things and more

and I didn’t believe them, because I was young

and I didn’t believe them, because they were old,

but now they are gone and I am older,

now I understand what the old people meant

when they said illness runs in families,

when they said the cure by times becomes the problem,

when they said the seasons would only be known

by leaves on the trees.

Now I know the wisdom

in…

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Home? Where My Heart Is

Simply Homemade

I have always lived in the sunny southeast, in this beautiful corner of Ireland. In different parts of it yes, but always in Wexford.

We moved twice when I was a child, once that I have no recollection of and the second time when I was 11, a preteen, so the bulk of my childhood memories centre mainly around my Nana’s house in town. She lived in a quaint little cottage on the river Slaney, with the railway line running right at the back of the house.  We knew the train times, we knew when it was safe to climb over the wall and go ‘up the Point’ with Grandad or Uncle Tom if he was home from Wales. We could safely go across the road for 10 penny sweets and cigarettes for whoever requested them, because it was perfectly normal for children to buy cigarettes in the 80’s. Walking…

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Emmylou Harris, Hank Williams : Drifting Too Far From The Shore

The Immortal Jukebox

Out on the perilous deep
Where dangers silently creep

I’m gonna die today.

29 last month.

And, I’m gonna die today.

Consider this my last letter.

About 12 hours from now I’m gonna take that slow walk.

To The Chair.

To The Chair.

I been drifting too far from the shore for a long time now.

Drifting too far.

Counting down the hours sets your mind thinking all right.

Mine goes back to the beginning.

A cabin in the Piney Woods.

Listening to the radio at night with the moon and stars shining through the windows and ol’ Bill Monroe (with Mama’s harmony) singing me to sleep.

Ain’t no one sing like Bill.

Today, the Tempest rose high,
And clouds o’ershadow the sky

There’s many a guy in here who’ll look you straight in the eye and tell you they is innocent.

Not one of them telling the truth.

Well…

View original post 600 more words

A little reflection.

Calm of morning

Brings the return of night voices

Sleep, though erratic

Filled with dreams.

 

They are nights companion

Cradled in duck down pillow

Some with a tone of sadness

Pillow words.

 

Some of which come morning

Appear unclear

Mostly, those with a tone of sadness

Night voices, take an excursion on a mystery train.

(c) Chris Black. November 2017.

At this moment in time.

I don’t expect to get paid for my dreams

Daily I give my heart and soul to the project

It matters not if it consists of a 5-7-5 Haiku

It could be a much lengthhier piece

Short story or poem

Breathing new life into your thoughts

Bring the feeling of believing in your dreams

At this moment in time

I don’t expect to get paid for my dreams

Yet each moment I write –

One day my dreams will turn into

That pot of gold at the end of the rainbow

One small step for man

One giant step for the writer within

Continue to do your morning pages.

 

(c) Chris Black. November 2017.

#Poetry

#SpokenWord

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Twitter @CJBLACK2012

http://www.chrisblack2012.com