Colour, creed, nationality it matters not. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

The battle appears lost

The war rages on

From a distance it would appear

There is no money to be gained

Living in an all peaceful society.

Our health is our wealth

Pollution will be our downfall

Do we have to build missiles of destruction?

Do we have to land on Mars?

Sit in Ivory Towers, plan trips to the moon?

Instead, sit around round tables discuss –

Would the monies not be better spent saving our planet?

We can’t continue to live with the shades pulled down.

©Chris Black. April 18^th 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #April 2019 #National #Poetry #Month #30Days #30Poems

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Leave your thumb print here. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

I, who am the poem say to you

Write as you are bid

Put flesh on the bones of these words

Remember who is in charge here

I, who am the poem say to you

Write as you are bid.

©Chris Black. April 17^th 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #April 2019 #National #Poetry #Month #30 Days #30Poems

In the space between his ears. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

Staring from a horizontal position pondering

At a star pierced sky in wonderment

Would it be possible that somewhere

In the far reaches might someone be peering down?

Perhaps there is just emptiness, an escape from life

He feels a quiver as if an unseeing hand

Was placed on his shoulder

Imagination and the darkness of night

Can play havoc with the intelligence.

©Chris Black. April 16^th 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #April 2019 #National #Poetry #Month #30Days #30Poems

Following a senior moment. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

Ink droplets flowing from pen engage with page

Drying on crisp blue velum work their oracle

Poet lies back in his black leather chair yawns deliciously.

Ink droplets funnelling down the vein of pen

Refuelling again and again with poetic whispers of Amen

 Poet fixing his eye on the path he wishes to travel.

This patchwork quilt of words lie on a page

Indescribable how a poem comes together

Just to be a self-witness to this pleases the poet no end.

With a chuckle to himself he places the cover on pen

Closes copybook, goes in search of a fitting title

Nothing unusual in this everyday ritual.

© Chris Black. April 15^th 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #April 2019 #National #Poetry #Month #30Poems #30Days

No archaic promises here. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

This poem waltzed its way onto the page

Totally unannounced

Side stepped poems which were not so eager

Its movement was swift, in an elegant way

Not at all like those other poems.

It had Gucci label stamped all over it

While those other poems were knapsack poems

On an ordinary day why of course they would fit the bill

But for today it had to be dickie bow and tails

This poem had structure written all over it

The discussion of second and consequent drafts

Never given a thought

Punctuation – not an issue

This poem had made the final cut.

Pity it didn’t fit the poets bill of fare

For today’s poem

So one and all, we’ll have to make do with this poem.

©Chris Black. 14^th April 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #National #Poetry #Month #30Days #30Poems

Pieces Of Me 2 ~ A Poem By Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

Part 2 of the life and times of my friend ~The Tennessee Poet~

Walt's Writings

Several of my followers have suggested I do a poetic
memoir of my life – things I’ve done, places I’ve been,
things I’ve seen, etc. I will do these Pieces Of Me
periodically in no particular order. This is Pieces Of Me 2.

Wagner College Intramural Diving Champion, 1965
Member Tau Kappa Epsilon (TKE) Fraternity
Summer job – clerk typist
Worked at Defense Subsistence Supply Center in Brooklyn, NY
Tested for pilot training in US Air Force
Qualified for Navigator training
Polyps found on sinuses – no flying
Trains as Missile Launch Control Officer
Married in 1968
Drummer with The Zodiac Zoo
Drummer with Davey B & The Sonics
Miscarriage of first baby
Honorable Discharge, January 1971
Started work at Ausable Chasm, April 1971
Planned and developed 120 ste KOA Kampground
Promoted to Assistant General Manager
President of Adirondack Attractions Association
Drummer with Herbie Rock Band
Drummer & lead singer…

View original post 57 more words

Pieces Of Me 1 ~ A Poem By Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

Read about the life and times of ~The Tennessee Poet~

Walt's Writings

Several of my followers have suggested I do a poetic
memoir of my life – things I’ve done, places I’ve been,
things I’ve seen, etc. I will do these Pieces Of Me
periodically in no particular order.

Insight into The Tennessee Poet
Born as a Preacher’s Kid
Named Walter A. Page, Jr.
Dad was English and Irish
His father was also a preacher
Mom was a red-haired Scottish lass
Her father was a Lindsay
Grew up in a musical family
Took piano and trumpet lessons
Settled on drums
Played drums in school marching band,
Swing band, jazz band and
Symphony orchestra
Have one older brother
Paul – a redhead
Born in Ogdensburg, NY
Lived in Massena, NY
Moved to Westport, NY on Lake Champlain
Then to Lisle, NY
Dad became pastor of
The Oakwood Heights Community Church
n Staten Island, NY when I was 16
Graduated high school
Then 4…

View original post 69 more words

Stetson and leather boots. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

Invite them in

Talk to them in your mind

Somewhere down the lost highway

Among tumbling tumbleweeds

The sign will read lullaby or lies.

I am a poem write me down

If I live a long life I’ll have many a story to tell

I took a wrong turn

Which turned out to be the write turn

Puns some days they are ten a penny

Then there are those days it is an ordeal

To sing the right note

Find a fitting quote

Saddle up head off across the plains in search of fresh pastures

Nothing will grow on scorched earth.

It’s not only bad guys who wear black hats.

Misery loves company.

©Chris Black. April 13^th 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #National #Poetry #Month April 2019 #30Days #30Poems

There he bends a knee. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

Under the shadow of great Ben Bulben

He kneels in the silence of a grave yard

Writes these lines in homage to an influencer.

Many are called to write

Few are chosen it must be said

Some gain notoriety while alive

Others pass on never knowing their fate.

Quiet and unnoticed he crosses himself and leaves.

“Tread softly because you tread on my dreams”

©Chris Black. April 12^th 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #April 2019 #National #Poetry #Month #30Days #30Poems

A little nugget. Poetry from the pen of ~The Poet’s Poet~

All those treasures that lie dormant in the mind

Waiting only for the ribbon to be unbound

Lid to be lifted so as they may be exposed

It is then the secrets of the mind can be disclosed.

There are times the mind is tired and weary

Seeking nothing only rest

Which is a test for the writer

Who wishes to conduct the business of the day –

Yet pen, his baton won’t dance to his tune.

©Chris Black. April 11^th 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #April #National #Poetry #Month #30Days #30Poems