Drowning in the Drought

At times I drip with poetry

The words simply pour out of me

A flow it seems no dam could ever stop

Until, I’m drowning in the drought

A flood of tears and mere self-doubt

That withers, in the barn, my finest crop.

17.1.2020

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I might make you laugh, but I might also make you cry,
I might give you answers or make you question why.
I can look so serious or sound really quite absurd
I am divine unseen pen pictures designed to be heard.
I will make comparisons to shine a light inside your heart
I’ll begin our stories with with an epilogue or end them near their start.
My language can be quite colourful, yes I have be...

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I am hosting and have some great features, Anthony Anaxagorou and HKB FiNN.

Get a chance to discuss the work with the poets, intimately!

Open mic available

https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=245456218837616

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If this is a day

On a page or stage

That asks you to say...

Something.

With rhyme or not

Keeping time or

Stopping to make your meaning clearer

Bringing the distant nearer

Unpacking the treasured memories

Buried oh so slightly to the left in your chest

Explaining why someone pushes all your buttons

And how each and every button feels to be depressed

And doing all...

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"Poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth".
Samuel Johnson

"prose - words in their best order; poetry - the best words in their best order."
Samuel Taylor Coleridge

"Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words."
Edgar Allan Poe

A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and th...

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Is that why?

I bled

for so many years with the pain reminiscent of childbirth

and cried with longing and loss

the empty hollow and the useless womb

Is that why

I ached

and found each day weighed heavier than the last

and my body dried and drained

and my world shrank to a parody

Is that why

I killed

Tiny webbed fingers a hea...

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Is it a block if I don’t write with an incontinent flow?

What if my Ganges becomes a trickle and there’s a lickle less to show?

Is it volume that we should measure,

Is life merely a manufacturing contest?

Cos see its quality that I treasure,

Not the most words but the best.

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She sent me out into the world,

But before she did she made sure I had breakfasted.

She sent me out into the world,

But before she did she filled my lunch box.

She sent me out into the world,

But for me tea she prepared a banquet,

Gil and Benjamin broke my fast,

So though I knew the revolution would not be televised

I saw a poet could be hero in my Mother’s...

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My definition in rhyme.

I write rhyme

Because, I like rhyme.

I like rhyme

Because sometimes, rhyme rights me.

Sometimes, me, I fight rhymes,

Sometimes, rhyme fights for me.

But I never bite rhymes,

Because I likes mines.

See they mine my mind so deep

That even I don’t know what they’ll find.

If this was cranial surgery, my loved ones would weep,

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A poet is just a maker of connections.

You can’t think without connecting concepts,

Or speak without synergising sounds,

You cannot write without linking letters, verbs, adjectives and nouns.

To perform requires an audience,

Reflections are simply waves in thought or light.

You can only describe any one thing based on sensory references coloured by personal i...

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The poetry, like beauty, is in the poet's eyes,

The art is in distilling it in a lyrical guise.

Taking the truth of a transient vision that is distinctly personal,

To weave words into an immortal form, transcendent and universal.

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