In an acrostic frame of mind

Foraging around for the proper and


Ingredients for my acrostic poem

Do I change tack or perhaps

Act as though this is working out just fine and dandy?

Yes wind down Fridays have a peculiar affect on me.

(c) Chris Black. September 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~

Have a quiet and peaceful weekend.

#Acrostic #Poetry

The mind is a scary place.

He shouted from the rooftop

His call went unheard

Returning to the ‘comfort’ of a damp rucksack

Made himself a comfortable as possible.


Life can be cruel at the best of times

Must make the best of the hand I was dealt

None of us know what lies ahead

One of life’s many imponderables.


His was an affluent upbringing

Unfortunately, falling in with the wrong crowd was his undoing.

After once more studying the tattered photographs

Suddenly he was airborne.

(c) Chris Black. September 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~

#Poetry #SpokenWord

Hear a spoken word version @

Haiku. Leaf


Vita Brevis is hosting another four-day haiku competition–taking place entirely in the comment section of this post!

How to Submit:

1. Submit one 5-7-5 haiku as a comment on this post — all topics welcome

2. Reblog this post on your blog or write a post announcing that you’ve entered the competition, linking back here

3. Give good feedback on other commenters’ work! [This is what it’s really about–you’ll be receiving good feedback, so try to give it to others as well]

Here’s my Haiku, It’s only the second one I’ve every done, I hope I’ve structured the format right, please if advise if I need to correct…..


Spring’s about to start

Your winter withered my heart

Birds sing until dark

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Celebration time in the Man Shed.

Do visit

Join in the fun, who knows you could be like me and end up with your name in lights.

I am published story number 446 if you pop by.

1,000 required entries for a place in the Guinness Book of Records.

(c) Chris Black. September 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~

81 Word Story – Challenge

Time to put the thinking cap on

Jordy’s Streamings

Jordy’s 🌹

Here is the link to the site,

A call out to my blogger community. Knowing all of you as exceptionally creative writers, I invite you to take on this challenge!!

A few months ago when I first started my blog, I encountered this challenge to write and submit an 81 word story.

Christopher Fielden the blog’s author and his team want to publish an anthology of 1000, 81 word stories and set a new Guinness Book of World Record.

My story is number 409, and there are currently 442 submissions, but will need 558 more to get published.

All proceeds will go to charity.

Come on now!! Have fun and get published!! Please reblog if you are interested!!

Cheers and well being to all of you beautiful people!!

💗 Jordan

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Never discard an idea.

For the mere mortal

Writing poetry is akin to peeling an onion

Approaching each poetic thought with trepidation

Taking pen in hand making the initial incision

When you begin to peel away at the layers

Gradually you make progress

Nearing the center core

You can see light at the end of the tunnel

Maybe start welling up with tears

The earlier thought you had was bright and breezy

Yet nearing conclusion

Your poem had a sad feel to it

Still it was an enlightening experience

Everyone who reads your work

Will indeed have a different perspective on it

Which is only natural

Take a painting for instance

Any painting hanging in an art gallery

Rarely will two people view that vase of flowers

And see the exact same image…

(c) Chris Black. September 2018


~The Poet’s Poet~

Some Poems HURT.

The curtains parted

He entered from the right

Standing then in the spotlights glow

He opened his mind

With a gesture, he spoke

Leaving behind the light house feeling

He felt

Before going center stage.


Speaking silently with a tongue of the confused

He had the ingredients conducive to plotting a poem

The feeling of illness in the pit of his stomach

Would not pass

Until words were spewed out

So it was a poem was born.


Words, his longstanding friends

Not about to betray.

Fortune favours the brave

Might even spread the Red Carpet?

Together both were fighting the battle

Against nothingness.


Once he moves

The corpse awakens

Nothing is accidental?

Somewhere someone is logging their name against a poem.

(c) Chris Black. September 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~

#Poetry #SpokenWord

Hear a spoken word version @

Flying a kite for poetry.

Taking his river walk

Watched as wind hooked water

An otter come from hiding

Then disappear

Birds leap out of trees

Taking their place in the air.


The relentless rain

Drenching wild river bank flowers.

Taking his seat beneath trees shelter

His mind fixed in poetic form.

As long as there are the elements he thought

There could never be a mundane return.


He scavenged about, turning the screw

Feeling the warm and the cold of his surrounds

As dry as the nearby snail in his sheltered house

Covering his eyes he sat in silence

From his long rummaging with words

The poet observes that from the mist emerges a poem.

(c) Chris Black. September 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~

Listen to a spoken word version @

#Poetry #SpokenWord

As “Days Dwindle Down To a Precious Few”

When handed the keys to another day

Watch leaves come floating down

Signs that autumn has arrived in all its bronze glory.


Sun, glistening on pond water lilies

A young water hen flitting from leaf to leaf

Feeding, tweeting to it hearts content.


Passers-by stop, just to admire mother-nature

While a photographer snaps this birds movement

It will then be framed for posterity in glistening glory.


Strolling through the beautiful Botanical Gardens

Of Dublin’s fair City resplendent under a glorious autumnal sun

Global visitors stand in admiration as September once again

Brings forth its golden glow.


Sitting beneath an ancient oak tree sketching

Or perhaps writing his memoirs, a Zozimus type figure

His long blackthorn stick close by.

As the song says “The Days Grow Shorter When You Reach September”


So it was with “Kurt Weill’s” “September Song” ringing in his ears

“When the Autumn Weather Turns the Leaves to Flame”

Birds in song wing their way among a beech trees baring fingers.


Witnessing weather signs telling of this new season’s life

He paused, in this gardens vast circumference.

© Chris Black. September 2018                                                 

~The Poet’s Poet~

#Poetry #SpokenWord

Listen to the spoken word version






Cranking it up.

Once that red light turns to green

Automatically the poetic thought process  kicks into gear

Time to let the foot off of the break

Move from neutral into first gear

Then into second, third, fourth

Eventually top gear, you are on the highway to success

A road leading who knows where

No shortcuts allowed, you want to serve up more than blurred vision

A poem to stir the reader, move them back from that Black Hole

Or perhaps it is for your benefit alone you write?

Black Dog and Black Hole places you wish to escape from

The stars in the sky shade back to invisible, allowing

You see the light of day

Automatically you have something positive to say?

(c) Chris Black. September 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~

#Poetry #Ramblingofthepoeticmind