Life Story.

May 31, 2018 ~ Chris Black ~The Poet's Poet~ ~ 16 Comments

It happens when least expected, the muse awakens

Follow the route which you are taken

Words of calm, words of peace and beauty

Make a fine statement.

The flashing light above shines brightly

Sun, opens up eyes to stars in the universe

Write your thoughts on a piece of paper

There are many things you wish to say

Make your words stick like glue.

It happens when least expected, the muse awakens

Dreams become reality

You are transported to the calmness of a cobble-stoned street

Sipping on sunshine in the land of the Aphrodite hills.

On a page you can travel anywhere you you wish

It happens when least expected, the muse awakens.

Walking higgeldy piggeldy streets

Two up two down houses with an aged look

Enough to take your breath away

Some shaded from the sun by overhanging canopies

All painted in the many colours of the rainbow.

A place where destiny awaits someone.

In the distance the sound of a bouzouki.

It happens when least expected, the muse awakens.

All about positivism.

May 30, 2018 ~ Chris Black ~The Poet's Poet~ ~ 9 Comments

Today my hands are ‘cansada’

Arthritis

Today my eyes are of a similar state

Cataracts

Today my legs wish to walk that extra mile

Zimmer frame assisted

Today I rise from a restless sleep

Medication

Today hungry with no taste for food

I pick, pick, pick

Today as as with everyday I compose myself

Then write

Thankful that today

My mind is still active.

‘tired’

There Was A Time

May 30, 2018 ~ Chris Black ~The Poet's Poet~ ~ Leave a comment

The Tennessee Poet again telling it like it is. Check him out.

Walt's Writings

There was a time

When life was simpler… slower

When kids were safe in school

When a U.S. President didn’t call people names on Twitter

When there were no cell phones

When politicians cared about people

When cashiers could actually make change

When immigrants entered this country legally

When there was not so much hatred

When we talked to each other face to face

When we wrote letters

When TV shows celebrated families

Ozzie & Harriet

My Three Sons

Father Knows Best

The Brady Bunch

When doctors made house calls

When children actually played outdoors

When we built forts, rafts and tree houses

When we played with Erector Sets, Lincoln Logs & Tinker Toys

When you could understand words to songs

When people helped each other

When stores waited until after Thanksgiving to decorate for Christmas

When families actually ate dinner together

But those were all yesterday

And yesterday’s gone

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Never a doit.

May 29, 2018 ~ Chris Black ~The Poet's Poet~ ~ 16 Comments

And the beat goes on

So poetry never forget

The poet has instant recall

Curse and swear as you wish

Poets will serve up a wordy dish

You are poetry.

Poet always on the look out for that impromptu party

Sit on the sidelines and earwig

Conversations, party pieces never written as is

Wordsmiths have their own twist

The early morning scrawking crow

Will never sound the same on paper.

Safe in the knowledge

That their poetry is written with a slant

The poet will sit and scribble as long as the clock ticks

The end product may read obscure

Remember though you are poetry

The poet doggerel verse.

Caro et osseus

May 25, 2018 ~ Chris Black ~The Poet's Poet~ ~ Leave a comment

Caro et osseus

P.S. Double click above to open. Thank you.

Summer.

May 24, 2018 ~ Chris Black ~The Poet's Poet~ ~ 16 Comments

Enjoying an acrostic summer

The Parting Glass: George Jones RIP – All Dressed Up To Go Away

May 23, 2018 ~ Chris Black ~The Poet's Poet~ ~ 2 Comments

For more check out Thom Hickey and his Immortal Jukebox.

The Immortal Jukebox

….A time to rise and a time to fall

Come fill to me the parting glass

Goodnight and joy be with you all.

Hard to admit but the only page in the newspaper that I always read is the Obituaries.

I frequently discover histories of fascinating people I surely should have known about who led lives of extraordinary achievement and colour.

Of course, the older I get the more I realise that there are no such things as ‘ordinary lives’ for every life contains miracles and marvels if we but took the time to hear all those unrehearsed and untold stories – perhaps God alone performs that service for us.

I also frequently find myself strongly disagreeing with the perspective of professional obituarists when they memorialise the lives of men and women whose lives I actually knew something about or who had an emotional impact on my own life through…

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