Scrambled happy moments.

Listen – ewe bleating after lambs

Sit – observing cattle chew their cud

Hear – the sky lark sing their merry song

On the beach sand castles are built

Succumb to the silence of a moving river

On a forest walk, listen to the trees speak

Walk a country road, stop. Listen as someone practices scales.

feel your heart beat.

Spider busy at weaving.

Reading “The Song of Wandering Aengus” (W. B.  Yeats)

Walk, uplifting heart and eyes

Watch, dog play chase through lapping waves

Welcome home hugs from family

Sharing special moments with your grandchild.

Spellbound at the works of mother nature.

On a walk in the silence of the country side, listen to what farmlands are saying.


Marvel at the inner relationship of thought, pen and paper.

“Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess what is seen during a moment” Carl Sandburg.

(c) Chris Black. June 2018

~Poets Poet~


More words on a page.

Be it on a page or on the tongue

The lingo of the poets words should engage

Should they rhyme as a song is sung

Not always, yet they should hip-hop from the page.


Flowing through the mind from some poetic force

Inspiration drives the poet on, on a straight and narrow course

Gnawing away these secret words emerge

Reaching for his implement lays down this poetic surge

All manner of poetry at times coupled with the spoken word

Mystifying the Poets Poet as to how this has occurred.

(c) Chris Black. June 2018

~The Poets Poet~

~The Poets Poet~ A handle bestowed on me by my writerly friend Walt, The Tennessee Poet. Find Walt @Waltswritings and be inspired.

More Spoken Word Poetry on SoundCloud @ Chris Black 36.

Life Story.

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.

(c) Chris Black. May 2018




All about positivism.

Today my hands are ‘cansada’


Today my eyes are of a similar state


Today my legs wish to walk that extra mile

Zimmer frame assisted

Today I rise from a restless sleep


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.

(c) Chris Black. May 2018


There Was A Time

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

View original post 12 more words

Never a doit.

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.

(c) Chris Black. May 2018