Wednesday, December 28, 2011

To Melville

Where sailors smell land,
With harpoon in hand.
By Ahab's side
We ride the tide,
With Quaker hand
Nowhere to stand.
The flukes arise.
The towering tail
Smahes upon our whale.

Eide on the spray
O! Spouting foam
Smell the oil
As we strain and toil.
Down they go,
No hope of spoil.

To all but one,
The Grat White beast
Calls on to feast.
One alone safe from Pequod's grave.
One alone to tell Melville's tale.
One alone of the Great White Whale.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

A Christmas Poem

An enduring memory of my childhood Christmas's is the desire to stay awake in order to see Santa Claus (Father Christmas) bring me my hoped for presents.

I would listen eagerly for the sound of hooves as the reindeer clattered upon the roof. Think I could hear the sound of shuffling down the chimney and always without fail I would be asleep by midnight.

Waking on Christmas morning, an old grey navy kit bag, laying across my bed, often filled with bright and shiny packages.

This poem is my tribute to those treasured Christmas's.


To read Christmas Eve CLICK HERE!

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

I Don't Have to Defend Myself

Breaking up is often hard.
We often say things that we regret later. If a relationship ends in a long series of fights. Excuses and antagonism often fuels the fight.
We grow defensive, and as words flow, so do the excuses.

This is the source of the poem I Don't Have to Defend Myself.

Read the poem CLICK HERE.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Reminder to Self and All Others: Be Prepared The Xanadu Principal

We all probably know the story of the English Romantic Poet Samual Taylor Coleridge, who one morning woke suddenly with a poem complete in his mind. The poem Xanadu  was the result. He was able to write only the first few verses before he was called for breakfast and the poem dissolved into nothing.

We do have the poem and even to this day we can see how much better the first part of the work is, the second part faulters and is less impressive.

Well this morning I had a Xanadu moment. I woke quickly and had a poem running around in my mind. Jumping out of bed, I rushed to my desk, paper, yes, pen, er! Pen!, Please a working pen! Found it.

Yesterday, through the missed.
I saw the eyes, that I have missed.
Soft kiss of the lips
Once kissed.

Err! there was more. Err, reminder to self be prepared to make notes at anytime.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Autumn Memories


For me Autumn or Fall is the best time of the year.

I remember as a child in England, the return to school in early September with fondness.  After school going to the park in front of the town hall and collecting conkers, Horse Chestnut, pods to break open for the large beown seeds inside, followed by hours of curing them for the big conker battles, and screams of strings as we boys battled with the seeds and smashed our opponents conker with glee.

Then as nights grew longer, in late October, we would make a "Guy" and go to the local store and beg for pennies from customers so we could buy ourselves fireworks and sweets, in preparation for November 5th.

This poem is a poem of the memories of that time.

To read Autumn Memories   CLICK HERE!

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

uncle Sam


There are several stories as to the origins of Uncle Sam.

He is said to have appeared quite early in U.S. history, in the midst of the War of 1812, when the U.S. fought its war against Britain over alleged British infractions of international maritime law.

Uncle Sam, the individual personification of the United States of America is a familiar sight to many. His high Top Hat, star covered headband dressed in a blue frock coat and red and white striped trousers has gazed over Americans since September 7th, 1813, in some form or another.

Poetry too has long been used as a means of putting across a political message. From the plays of Shakespeare, through the Romantic poets, Byron and Keats of the early 19th Century, political messages have been an important message for the poet.

In Britain today, there is still a poet laureate. Their duty to write poems on important events of the current day to record them in poetic form for future generations. Woe betide the poet laureate that fails to bring the right note of majesty to an important event. Public and politicians often berate poets who seek to impart the wrong message to posterity.

In my poem, written completely by acciddent on September 7th, 2011, the 198th birthday of Uncle Sam
I write for the old symbol to rise again. Pull the people together with old patriotic virtues and answer the question, Who is Uncle Sam?


Uncle Sam

Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam.
Star Spangled old man.
Many a year,
We held you dear.
Lead again one more rousing cheer.
Foe who in Patriot's garb,
Can savage this deadly barb.
Join as one to lead the Free
With love of Life and Liberty.
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam.
Bring together the common man.
Underneath the Red, White and Blue.
To the Patriots ever true.
Lead us now from the fight.
To shine again Liberty's pure light.
Wipe away the tear of pain,
Sip the TEA of Boston's Main.
Come all heroes of the past,
Once more to the bugles blast.
March with us once again.
Save the land from our pain.
But What is that I hear?
Who is Sam? Who is Sam?
People that I love so dear.
YOU ARE SAM. YOU ARE SAM!

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Flash Stories

One of my latest forays into the world of writing is creating "flash stories".
A flash story is a work of fiction which can be as short as just fifty-five words. More commonly however it is longer. It must have a beginning, middle and end, and the general maximum is just 1,000 words.

Flash story is a new term for an old form of literature and story telling. Many of the Fables of Aesop and Biblical Parables could be described as "Flash stories" too.

A Flash story, must be self contained, it cannot be part of a larger work. To create such a work would mean that it was merely a chapter in a longer story.

Flash stories need not contained detailed characterization and need to restrict detail to an absolute minimum. The only reason for a flash story to exist is to tell a story.
Like in the old days of the TV Cop show Dragnet, "Just the Fact's folks, Just the Facts."

To read Battlefield Ghost: An Interview with a Ghost from Pickett's Charge CLICK HERE!

Sunday, August 28, 2011

New Nostradamus Quatrain

Today I read a story online. It was about the discovery of a new Quattrain by the Medieval Mystic Nostrodamus.

The Quatrain reads:

When Two Score and Four,
Sits beneath the Eagles Claw.
Then in One Hundred Score and three times four,
Firey rain to Earth Shall pour.

To read more of the story CLICK HERE!

Sunday, August 14, 2011

The Indianapolis 500


Often as a poet there is a feeling which you want to share.

Several years ago, I wrote this poem, now slightly updated, about a trip to the Indianapolis 500 practice week.

The practice runs for the whole week before the race on the Sunday before Memorial Day, the last Monday in May, and the start of the American summer.

It was my first visit to the "Brickyard" as the Indianapolis speedway is known. The track is actually quite small only a little over the width of four cars  and my admiration for the drivers who throw their cars around that space only increased.

One of the greatest prizes in motor sport, winning the Indy 500, is celebrated not with formula one's more flamboyant champagne, but a cold bottle of milk, which dates back to the later days of prohibition.

I hope you will enjoy reading a tribute to Middle America and the heroes and heroines as well as the people who make the Indy 500 and the Brickyard a special place for me.


At the Speedway CLICK Here!

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Wait


So much of our life is spent just waiting. I lost track of the times when I asked a question and I was told by my mother to "Wait."

It just seems at times we wait while we wait. When we stand in line at the store we wait patiently but we also wait at the same time to receive a call on our cell phone or wait to receive a text or wait to plan a new venture, all at the same time.

A whole life seems to be spent waiting sometimes.

This poem is about reasons we wait.

Wait to be born.
Wait to be fed.
Wait to be changed.
Wait to be bathed.
Wait for your Birthday.
Wait to go to school.
Wait for Christmas.
Now that's a long wait.


To read the rest of Wait,  Click HERE!

Friday, August 5, 2011

What is Haiku?

Haiku are a Japanese form of poetry.

They are quite a popular form of poetry in the West today though the Western form cannot equal the beauty of the Japanese originals. As Japanese Caligraphy is an art form in itself and the Haiku of Japanese origin was created using a more picturesque language. The original was a "warm-up" for poets exercising their minds to create longer poems, often in competition with each other.

Haiku comprises of three lines with 5-7-5 elements. In English these elements are considered syllables whereas in the original Japanese the language allowed for entire thoughts to be presented in the form of the pictographic characters of the Japanese language.

The syllable form is less romantic in its form but works well.

Explanation of syllables:

A syllable is a vocalization in English. How the word sounds so for example.

Hand  (1 syllable)

Cowboy,  Cow-- Boy  (2 syllables)

Traffic    Tra--fic  (2 syllables)

Thunderstorm  Thun--der--storm  (3 syllables.

The syllable count is important in formal Haiku where you must count the syllables 5 in the first line, seven in the second and five again in the third line.  Don't count words count syllables.


An Example of one of my Haiku.

Summer

Tar scent, dry earth, burn.

Haze of Shimmering glass, light.

Withering, heat. Burn. 


Following these simple rules you can have great fun creating your own short poems.

To see more of my work   CLICK HERE!

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Blind Faith: A Modern Poem

Blind Faith is a modern style poem. That is to say it is a story of a train of thought not necessarily rhyming or with a fixed meter.

Through the poem I aimed to describe a world of frustration at growing blindness. I have been going blind for several years now. Sometimes my vision seems to creep away slowly, other days I notice I can see a lot less than I could only hours before.

In part a lament at my growing disability, in part a song of hope that either science or religious Faith might bring respite or reconciliation for me in the struggle.

It  is the story of one man's experience through growing fog and isolation.



To read Blind Faith CLICK HERE!

Monday, August 1, 2011

Harry Potter Limerick

A few days ago, I published this tribute Limerick for Harry Potter.

It is my thank you to JK Roeling for the wonderful character that she created, and to the movie series which just ended.

Click Here for Harry Potter: The Limerick

I Want to Go to the Seaside



Many a summer's day is spent at the seaside, beach or ocean. Whatever you call it it can bring back pleasant memories, to share with the one you love.

This poem mixes a desire to go to the seaside with the one you love and childhood memories of summer days long passed.

It is about sharing memories of childhood days as well as making new precious memories of times together.

If you can't take a trip to the beach, ocean or seaside with someone you love and enjoy a sunset walk on the beach with them, why not enjoy a poem about that very thing together.

Better still write your loved one a poem.



To reade I Want To Go To The Seaside  Click Here

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Limerick: This Five Line Verse

A Hub with a brief history of the Limerick as a piece of comic verse. With a few examples of my own work.

Limerick: This Five Line Verse

Friday, July 22, 2011

Writer's Block

You know the feeling. You sit before a cold white screen with that cursoe winking coyly at you.

You want to type in some words even a letter, but your hands and your brain are paralysed.

You try to think back over the months you have written effortlessly, trying to remember one idea you once casually threw aside to write your next great piece.

But there is nothing, not a memory, not an idea nothing. And still that cursor winks at you, telling you to type something here. You have nothing, but Writers Block.



Click Here to read   Writer's Block

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Haiku: Tribute to the Squirrel, in all forms.

We humans often invest animals with human characteristics. The Bee with industry, the fox and coyote with cunning,  the lion with power.

The squirrel is seen as a good symbol for us, the squirrel is able to conserve food forthe future. It appears frugal and wise, Though many an ancient oak owes a debt of thanks to a squirrel who forgot where it planted that acorn.

This Haiku is my tribute to the squirrel.

Brush Tail, Quick Bright eyes.
Save for tomorrow, Nuts hoard,
Frugal, noble saver.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Late: A Poem of Clock Watching

One technique of the poet is to create a persona from another point of view.

In this poem the viewpoint is from the clock on a wall. The clock is an omnipresent and all seeing character. Continually watching and being watched by the questioner, who has but one question, "Am I late?"

The clock's replies are various however, never repeating which adds to the surprise of the reader. Why should a machine be able to answer a seemingly mechanical question from the human questioner. It is a paradox. Who is the real machine in the poem?

Sample:

Am I late?
I watch you into work.
Am I late?
I tick away your break.
Am I late?

To read Late in full Click HERE!

Sunday, July 17, 2011

What is a Limerick?

Limerick's are a short poem of five lines.

They comprise of two rhyming lines together known as couplets and a single line which rhymes with the first couplet rhyme, often repeating the first line.

The rhyme structure is AABBA

An example is There was a young girl of Runcorn.    (A)
                        Her voice as loud as a foghorn.         (A)
                        On a hill she would stand,                  (B)
                        Shouting "Here there be LAND!"       (B)
                        That noisy young girl of Runcorn,       (A)


Limericks are often bawdy, that is they are often full of double meaning or sexual in content, that is not a necessary feature but it was a common feature of English Music Hall comedians where they would produce the first four lines of a Limerick and allow the audience to complete their own joke by adding the final line. The regular meter and rhyme means that often the audience could see where the limerick or joke was going. This Music Hall technique was in part to avoid censorship by local officers of the Watch Committees and inpart to prevent children hearing unsuitable jokes.

Limericks are simple to create if you maintain a strong rhyme in the last syllables of the lines.. Once you begin it actually becomes quite addictive. I can create seven or eight Limericks per hour if I set my mind to do so.

Try them they are fun.

To read There Was an Old Man limerick  CLICK HERE!

Saturday, July 16, 2011

When You're Gone.

Places and objects can bring back memories of other times.

Sometimes a view or a piece of furniture or a piece of music can hold many memories.

In this poem, sitting on a park bench brings back cherished memories. Tempered and strained by the fact that the loved one is gone. Never to share the place again.


To Read When You're Gone  CLICK HERE!

Friday, July 15, 2011

Starbucks Mugs

This poem as its name suggests was inspired by part of my collection of Starbucks mugs.

As I have travelled across Europe and the United States one of my habitual coffee houses was a local Starbucks. As part of my desire to have a souvenir of my various travels I would by a local mug. Over time this has grown to quite a collection. Over twenty actually. The mugs mentioned are only a part of the collection.

I use the mugs each day and so all of them bring back memories and trigger the emotions of place for me as I drink my coffee or tea in the morning.

To Read the Poem "Starbucks Mugs"  CLICK Here!

Thursday, July 14, 2011

A Modern Homer

This poem reflects on the role of writers today. Especially in the light of my own blindness.

It seems a natural progression from the ancient world, where in Greek cities blind poets and story-tellers would sit by the city gate and recite tales and poems to travellers as they passed by.

In this poem I equate modern online writers to those ancient storytellers. Our gate is our computer keyboard, the highway the super highway of the internet and world wide web.

So what did those ancients tell stories of? Heroes such as Achilles and Hector (Homer: The Iliad) Their heroes were warriors and demi-gods. So who do todays Homers praise? The heroes of the internet and modern technologies, Steve Jobs (Apple) and Bill Gates )Microsoft) whom you see as the equivalent of Hector depends on if you are an Apple user, and who is Achilles maybe; Bill Gates?

Instead of a coin tossed by the traveller into the cup of the ancient Homer. Today's Homers seek only to be favored with a like, a tweet or a Digg.

In four thousand years has the world really changed very much?


To read the poem A Modern Homer   Click HERE!

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Winter a Haiku

It is funny where the ideas for a poem come from.

As I took a shower this morning, a Haiku came to my mind. It must be the over 100 degree Fahrenheit daytime temperatures and a desire for real cold, that my thoughts turned to Winter.

I can sometimes just come up with an idea and it seems just right. Winter is such a poem. It appeared complete in my mind and I was more worried that I would forget the lines beforeI could write it down.

I quickly dried and dressed and as I did so I was jotting down the words of the poem.
I hope you will go and read it.


READ Winter  NOW!

There was a young girl of Runcorn

There was a young girl of Runcorn.

Her voice as loud as a foghorn.

On a hill she would stand,

Shouting, "Here there be land!"

That noisy young girl of Runcorn.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Limerick: There was a Young Man of Coalinga

There was a young man of Coalinga,
Who everyday in the library would linger.
When questioned would say,
"It's a cool place to stay."
That studious young man of Coalinga.

Welcome to this new Blog

Welcome to my latest blog.

I have been writing poetry as a hobby for many years. In the past few weeks I have also been writing some poetry of various forms for publication.

Most of my poetry is being published on the Yahoo Contributoe Network.

The Yahoo Contributor Network, provides a place to publish poetry or any written or recorded material for that matter. The also pay contributors cash for providing advertising copy similar to Googles AdSense Program.

A Search for Yahoo Contributor Network on any search engine will take you to a sign up page. For easy set up of an account.

This blog is for anyone to enjoy. You may post links to your work or ask others to provide feedback.

I ask that all content be suitable for a wide audience. I will examine requests and will be the final arbiter if submitted products for this blog.

So here are the Do Not's:

  1. No obscene language.
  2. No Flaming me or anyone else.
  3. Deliberately post malicious, or spam.
  4. Attempt to place racist, items of a derogatory or implicit sexual nature.
Other than these terms all other posts will be accepted at my sole discretion.

Please feel free to enjoy the blog and contribute your work.