On Writing Poetry

On Writing Poetry

Da-duh. Da-duh. Dah-duh, My finger taps.
A Word Art race. Scurry across my eyes
Like math, dancing into a rhythmic sequence
They say mean it, do you know what I mean?
My heart’s static. A buoy in the ocean
Floating, drifting – a gypsy vagabond
Words tornado our binding emotion
Beckoning your aching heart to respond.
Someone said your soul should orate your truth
Let your heart hug people – join the chorus
Animate the philosophy of youth
But please please, do your best not to bore us.
Our brain is the marionettist of life
And our fingers bear the unwanting strife.

Triolet: If it’s quite alright

If it’s quite alright, my darling
I’ll remember the time we met
A lakeside Autumn, so charming
If it’s quite alright, my darling
You offered your hand for dancing
Weaving in a timeless duet
If it’s quite alright, my darling
I’ll remember the time we met.

Sunflower

Sunflower

I am tall and yellow.
How far does the blue sky go?
The twitter of the Chickadee’s
Dance through the mighty white oaks
Awakening the forest,
and I stand tall and yellow.
I try to burst from the earth
Turn and face the sun
I feel the heat
and worry the drought
Won’t let her cry.
I am tall and yellow.
I bring the joy and sparkle
A thousand suns
Planted in eternal fields
I try to stand tall
I try to stay yellow
I hope for tomorrow.
I am a sunflower fellow.

Places

Places

Up in the hills of Merri Creek
Dancing around my red brick walls
I breathe in the eucalyptus
Listening to urban laughs and tram bells
Wrapped in blankets of holidays past
Dreaming of the day I can leave
Just so I can come home again.

NaPoWriMo 2017 7/30

Thirteen Reasons why Today didn’t suck.

One
Autumn night, well played
A fresh to start the day.
Two
Waking up to the big blue,
is an Aussie’s Paradise.
Three
Ding Ding, the café bell
Madam Rosa knows me well.
Four
Coffee beans and toasted bacon,
Taste buds have awoken.
Five
City heels find their strut
music on, iPhone plugged.
Six
Happy chaos on the street,
nods to those we meet.
Seven
Chocolate Orange Mocha
meant good vibrations at the lockers.
Eight
Smiles and conversations,
we found our destination.
Nine
“Here’s your boost juice, babe”
My favourite mint and kale.
Ten
A Southern Cross hottie,
smiles and winks at me.
Eleven
My phone constantly glows,
with plans for April tomorrows.
Twelve
Office sing a long,
we know our working song.
Thirteen
Home to a branded Charlie
inspiring another story.

NapoWriMo 2017 5/30 – Who is he?

He comes to the world on an English stage,
His words branded into all the children.
His thoughts flicker through every writes page,
a wise master to all men and women.

He travelled from Europe to the Middle East,
from London to the streets of Verona.
He twisted truth like a romantic beast,
and even got laughed out of Vienna.

But his life was the truest tragedy,
falling to death after a merry drink.
To this day, we can’t spell his name properly
because he would scribble whatever he thinks.

Do you know the man who I speak of?
Have a moment, this was a labour of love.