Off now to lie down in a dark room. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

When I shuffle off this mortal soil

If it happens to be today

Here’s hoping that in the space beyond

I’ll still be able to correspond

Also that I don’t recoil

Or find myself with nothing to say.

There are those of course who would tip their hat

Nod in my general direction think that is that

To them I say, do this at your peril

You will find that I am a constant.

If you have been with me for the past 30 days

Or any part there of

To you I tip my hat and give praise

Thank you for your patience, follows, kind comments and those likes

Your encouragement it must be said assisted me make those 30 strikes.

©Chris Black. April 30th 2019 #National #Poetry #Month

#Poetry #amwriting #poemaday #30Days #30Poems

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The layout of language. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

Today, sitting in the imagination of his mind

He found himself in illustrious company, that of Samuel Beckett

Imbibing dry white wine at Cochon de Lait

Looking out on passers-by through a dimly lit window

This in turn charged the imagination.

Weekday mornings as apart from weekends

See him do most of his writing

Laying down a marker

His way of motivation

Eager, like a golfer on the first tee.

Always hoping at the off

He was not going to find himself bunkered.

Trying continuously to mould a poem to his own design.

The growth of a mind

The University of Life

Connecting with the landscape

Savouring all those aspects.

Longing to be a free thinker

Allowing always his words complete freedom.

©Chris Black. April 29th 2019 #National #Poetry #Month

#Poetry #amwriting #30Days #30Poems #poemaday

The White blackbird. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

THis complex thoughts scatter on the page

Today he can think only in monochrome

It is not a good writing day

Though he has lots he wishes to say

He simply can make no sense of it all

Today he feels like a fish out of water, all clammed up

His eyes glance away he cannot afford to even look at the page

Words are in fact leading him a merry dance

Where to from here is the puzzle

He cannot allow inanimate objects dictate.

Of late it has become a burden

Sharing his difficulty has eased the tension

The door to the library of the mind

Which had been tightly secured, now flung open

This gives him the opportunity to again read and write.

*The white blackbird by Lennox Robinson has no significance to the poem it just seemed like the perfect title.

©Chris Black. April 28th 2019 #National #Poetry #Month #30Days #30Poems

#Poetry #amwriting #poemaday

When the birds stop singing. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

Night writing brought about by storm and heavy rainfall

Black leaves seeking the shelter of partially built nests

Their home for the summer being buffeted by the gale.

We are reaching the final days of spring time

Climate change is happening in more ways than one

From this vantage point the loud clatter bang

Shows the wind has gotten beneath some outhouse tiles

The damage will not be accessed until dawn, in the name of safety

By small margins are we saved in times of storm?

An offence to man, woman and beast such weather

Then again is it not man, woman and beast that has us where we are?

Of course industry has a hand in the situation we find ourselves in

But which of us are going to be the first to dance to the tune of change?

We are living in the time of long silence

The alarm bells are ringing, their sound falling on deaf ears.

©Chris Black. April 27th 2019 #National #Poetry #Month #30Poems #30Days

#Poetry #amwriting #poemaday

She smiled coquettishly. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

There may be times his poetry can be cold and austere

Frame of mind or phrasing of poem can have this effect

Cold as rocks on a stark mountainside

Austere as in words actually paving the way of the poem.

He has to approach each poem in the right frame of mind

Falling down at this fence leaves phrasing sadly lacking.

Trying hard to separate himself from his poem

A priority, fantasy is difficult to write about.

He stood by his bureaux this morning, pondering

How to put today’s ink blots into conversation pieces

Leafing through dog eared pages, never discard a thought

He found this scribbled line, the lady at a nearby table

Dressed in banana peels wearing a fascinator made up of burned toast.

There are times his poetry takes a different turn?

©Chris Black. April 26th 2019 #National #Poetry #Month

#Poetry #amwriting #30Poems 30Days #26of30 #poemaday

Companions. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

He heard the call

Before nights end he had his poem

The cry of a poem

Music to his ears.

The economy of writing

Line by line

In the privacy of his mind

Brings the birth of a poem.

Penholder on the horns of a dilemma

He heard the call

In his mind’s eye he could see the first version

Before ink blotted paper.

Words running through drops of ink

From the crevices of his mind

As rain taps quietly on window panes

Tonight, this is the best poem he has written.

©Chris Black. April 25th 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #National #Poetry #Month

#30Days #30Poems #poemaday #25of30

Each day the world is new. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

He would go to the mirror unshaven

Return shining like a new pin

Not a sign of blood

Dab hand with an open razor

Ask him to drive a nail

Hang a picture on a wall

Return with blackened finger

And a plaster piece souvenir

Dresses up for a night out

Stretches the legs after the meal

Shows off two odd socks

In summer the song sings itself

His melodious voice rings throughout the house

They listen intently to his muffled words

As he quietly speaks his poetry.

©Chris Black. April 24th 2019 #National #Poetry #Month

#Poetry #amwriting #30Days #30Poems #24of30 #poemaday

Words. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

These inescapable creatures

Everyday tempters

Intelligibility, they have it in spades

Unavoidable once you wake

Undoubtedly they never sleep

They are there in your dreams

In your screams.

They have no problem with repetition

Thrive on hyperbole.

O’re yon high eastward hill

 Housed in his hamlet he’ll write words at will

Shakespeare he may never be

Lives in a land of fictionality

Living in the world words

Equates to waking each morning to joyous madness.

©Chris Black. April 22nd 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #April 2019 #National #Poetry #Month

Turning the camera on himself. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

In some shape or form the ideas for his poems

Come from the ups and downs of life in all it various forms

Drinking in the beauty of nature

Losing himself in a vast library of books

Being a news junkie has its benefits

Leaving his ink splash on a page, satisfies

What is the point in poetry he asks himself frequently?

Self-gratification, getting something off his chest?

Some poems can confuse and irritate

Still they must be completed

We can learn a lot from poems?

Once he has lost all interest in the poem he’s writing

Then it is finished.

©Chris Black. April 23rd 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #April 2019 #National #Poetry #Month #30poems #30days

#HappyBirthdayWilliamShakespeare

Words. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

These inescapable creatures

Everyday tempters

Intelligibility, they have it in spades

Unavoidable once you wake

Undoubtedly they never sleep

They are there in your dreams

In your screams.

They have no problem with repetition

Thrive on hyperbole.

O’re yon high eastward hill

 Housed in his hamlet he’ll write words at will

Shakespeare he may never be

Lives in a land of fictionality

Living in the world words

Equates to waking each morning to joyous madness.

©Chris Black. April 22nd 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #April 2019 #National #Poetry #Month