A Numerical Poem.

Uno (i)

The poet wrote many words. Soon seeds sown will flourish.

Duo (ii) Double the joy.

Tres (iii) Great, celebrate whatever the mix.

Quattour (iv) You are beginning your expansion, progress gently.

Quinque (v) More hard to handle, but you set the bar, it will fall on more than one occasion.

Sex (vi) Now the task is, to make sense of what you write. Nonsense will not be tolerated nor will it be purchased. The reader is correct in stating Caveat Emptor.

Septem (vii) Trying too hard only confuses the matter. Finding yourself under pressure then fold the copybook, place the cap on the inkwell. Walk away.

Octo (viii) Walk in silence, contemplate your thoughts, study nature, allow your surroundings speak to you. Never discard a thought, you will get results.

Novem (ix) Write down that thought, don’t expect it to remain especially if it comes to you in a dream during the dead of night. Remember always, keep a pen and notepad beside your bed, jot down that thought.

Decem (x) When dawn breaks, rise and shine, shower then breakfast, time is of the essence. One thought will borrow another. Show gratitude not surprise it will not yet be the finished product. Persevere.

Undecim (xi) It is good at times to show elation, whether inwardly or perhaps you wish to share your success with your greatest critic, which in most cases is yourself. Don’t keep looking for that stick with which to beat yourself.

Duodecim (xii) Now this is where you encounter that invisible brick wall remember no matter how many times you stumble and fall dignity is the only thing which will be hurt. Patience, teach yourself patience success will not happen overnight. Quit when the time is right. Don’t attempt the farmers dozen (Tredecim)

(c) Chris Black. August 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~ 



Webs of intrigue.

when a dreamer dies

what happens to their dreams?

Is their dying their awakening?

Where their dream is just a fog

No point trying to remember

It’s gone, lost in the ether

Gone to dreamland.


when a dreamer dies

Dreamland, is that their heaven?

a place of euphoria

a sea of dreams.

Being a dreamer has its moments

Night dreamer, not day dreamer

Schemer, not doodler

The end result of daydreaming is this

while the night dreamer will search for a positive/


So the time has come to light that spark

Quit this daydreaming lark

concentrate on the task in hand

Build on solid ground not on quick sand.


when a dreamer dies

Dying is their awakening.

(c) Chris Black. August 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~

Hear the spoken word version at

Moonlight and rainstorms.

Just as the elevator doors lurched apart

It struck him

This is where this poem should start

Alien faces trooped out one by one

While those patiently waiting to enter stood aside

Some perhaps left memories inside

Those entering do the very opposite?

If you go in search of who wrote these words

Who do you look for male or female?

The ghost of times past?

A poet of the present?

Someone with a head full of ideas

Or perhaps full of sawdust

All is never black and white in the writerly world

Perhaps you won’t, never will find the culprit

Yet the writer has trust always in the written word

The door opens you step in or out

Think on the choices made and the consequences

In the flickering light apparitions sometimes show themselves

They are just that.

Once the door opens in the poets mind

It could well be the end of the world as he knows it.

Yesterday – walked through a cemetery

Dead interesting.

(c) Chris Black. August 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~

See The Tide Turn.

In the anaemic half light

He finds this time when the inquisitive mind is at its brightest

No need for alarm call

The call of early morning suffices

Looking out on the grey world

Spills words onto a white grey lined page

Paints a poetic scene

Yellow sun trying hard to brighten  Morning

Soft rain falling at a slant  Silently

Fresh coffee permeating  House

Mellow music modulating  Elbow

Stop take a moment to listen  Look around

Jolene, Dolly Parton another easy on the ear and eye combination

Spotify a welcome distraction from  WAR WAR instead of JAW JAW

Sweet Dreams are made of this sing The Eurythmics

As the anaemic half light gives way

To a glowing ball of light in a clear azure sky

Love Affair sing Bringing On Back The Good Times.

(c) Chris Black. August 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~

Also on https://www.soundcloud.com/the-poets-poet-1


Now grab the nearest CD/ALBUM cover or more if you feel brave enough.

Rattle your Green Tambourine

Write a story loosely based on song titles/song lyrics

On Your Marks, On Your Marks Get Set, Get Set, Go

In the House Of The Rising Sun

God Only Knows

Silence Is Golden

It’s there Mr. Tambourine Man sings

He Ain’t Heavy Hes My Brother

Night In White Satin sing I can’t Let Maggie Go

While roaming the Blue Bayou

The scent of Flowers In The Rain

Give them the Subterranean Homesick Blues

As a Brown Eyed Girl Turns, Turns, Turns Whiter Shade Of Pale

When she hears a  Bird On A Wire

Whistle Good Morning Sunshine.

Angie, Me And Bobby MCGee 

Decide to check out Shiloh Town

OH Happy Days, Hallelujah

That’s Bringing On Back The Good Times chants Judy

Do you Know The Way To San Jose anybody Ruby Tuesday the Taurus asks?

While this Summer Breeze continues to Make Me Smile

I’m off to discover a New World In The Morning

After Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay

Hoping to catch a glimpse of the Elusive Butterfly

I’m going to Take Five quit the Daydream

Don those Handbags And Gladrags sing out her Simple Song Of Freedom

For this Sunday Morning She’s Not There to Light My Fire

And We are nearly Out Of Time

Instead Everybody’s Talkin’

Feeling Mellow Yellow

Some Pointing the Finger Of Suspicion

Calling out Hey Joe (You Shot Your Woman)

What’s going on One who’s an Aquarius cried out

While brushing her Hair, you can Let The Sun Shine In (The Flesh Failures)

(c) Chris Black. August 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~


Floating Hotel.

They looked like Lilliputian people

So high up were they

Waving frantically as the vessel docked

Then scurrying off

Cameras flashing

They hadn’t set foot on dry land for a whole week!

A whole week

What did they expect?

After all it was a cruise liner holiday they had booked

Eager beavers

People weavers

Street crawlers

Window shoppers

Cafe diners

Avid winers

Pernickety eaters

A holiday of 5* treatment

Nothing like this

On tar and cement

Still you pays your money

And you takes your chance




Take a chance

One night stand


Back on board



From terra firma

To the ocean waves

Bed down 5* style

Forward to the next docking station.

(c) Chris Black. August 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~





Struggling to survive.

Windy waffle for Wednesday

Where else would you want to be?

Here, he hears them holler

Anaemic academics adorn archives


Boisterous broadsides being bowled belligerently

Munching memoirs

Tittle tattle talk

Bird brain banter

Paper print produced by the poet’s poet

Capable of cultivating cack-handed codwallop

Pontificating, passing the buck

August 1st and all about, anarchy.

(c) Chris Black. August 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~