Monthly Archives: April 2016

Not His Destination

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This morning I took a train from Thornton Heath station to London Victoria. Due to me being visually impaired, a member of station staff assisted me to board the train. However, before he could disembark, off went the locomotive with the railway company employee on board, and none to happy at having been conveyed, without his consent from Thornton Heath to the next station stop, Norbury!

—

A man
With a plan
To help me board a train.
Oh what a pain
For the doors closed
And there arose
From his lips a bad word,
The kind heard
On the docks.
The commuters where shocked
And the man from the station
Reached a destination
Not wished for.
No wonder he swore!

Evening Walk

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Breathing in the fresh evening air
I wander along
Conscious of birdsong.
The birds sing without a care
And soon I will be there
With her.

I dare
Say there
Will be a conversation
Over our meal.
What do I feel?
Anticipation
At the thought of what I know will come?

The birds Continue to trill.
The evening will
Run
Away in laughter
And drink.
I think
On The dull thrill
Of what comes after
A passing triumph, lost in a disaster.

Of Butterflies and Men

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Once butterflies
Would excite
And delight
The boy.
His heart would overflow with joy
At the sight of his new toy.

The boy’s passion grew.
He thought it true
That butterflies would stay.
To him they did flit
For a moment on a flower sit
Then pass away.

He came to disdaine
Butterflies for they caused him pain
Yet the boy knew well
He was under their spell
And could not refrain
From sorrow and pain.

Listening to the rain
Running down the drain
He thought on how life passes us by.
With the butterfly
We dally
Then die.

Poems and Flowers

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I gazed upon a flower, a thing of beauty.
A scientist said, “It is my duty
To explain it’s purpose,
Let us look beneath The petals surface”.

I watched how the light did slant
Throwing dancing beams upon the plant.
But the scientist ranted
About the structure of that flower, so lovingly planted.

Is not a poem a thing of beauty?
Yet the critic sees it as his duty
To deconstruct every line.
Oh what happened to the poet’s verse divine?!

Why spend hours
Analysing poems and flowers
When we can revel in beauty
Forgetting “duty”?

They Dance on the Edge of a Ledge

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The audience watches askance
As they dance
On the edge
Of a ledge.

Feet moving faster.
The music and laughter.
What follows after
Cool reflection or disaster?

She stoops but who conquers?
The situation bonkers.
A man old enough to be her father.
They would rather
Not think
On those who wink
And titter.

A bitter taste
Is a man’s disgrace
Yet still men dally
With silk and lace.

Deception

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Many skirt
The issue.
The time is short
And dearly bought.
A tissue
Of lies
And midnight sighs.

A girl growing up forsook
The straight path and took
A step down a perilous track.
One may turn back
But many lack
The will.

In the still
Of night
Delight
For one.
A soul is gone
And time rolls on.

Greying hairs.
She swears
All is not lost
And counts the cost
Of fixed smiles
And denials
No longer believed
By those she deceives.

Real Writers Don’t Self-Publish

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Author Kristen Lamb's avatarKristen Lamb's Blog

Screen Shot 2016-03-29 at 8.21.53 PM

One of the things I love about doing what I do is that I have the ability to connect so closely with you guys and speak on the topics that matter to you. Yesterday, a fellow writer shared an article from The Guardian, For me traditional publishing means poverty. But self-publish? No way. She wanted my take on what the author had to say.

All right.

For those who’ve been following this blog for any amount of time, I hope I’ve been really clear that I support all paths of publishing (vanity press doesn’t count).

All forms of publishing hold advantages and disadvantages and, as a business, we are wise to consider what form of publishing is best for our writing, our work, our goals, our personality, etc. But my goal has always been to educate writers so they are making wise decisions based off data, not just personal…

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How To Help a Suicidal Person Overcome the Urge…

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An important issue which is not given the attention it warrants. Kevin

Chris The Story Reading Ape's avatarChris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

Although my blog is primarily for Authors and Readers to get together, there are causes I feel need (and can) to be addressed by everyone, regardless of who or where they are, but especially by authors and bloggers, who have a greater influence than most.

Depression and suicides appear to be on the increase due to all sorts of reasons, from fear of terrorism to health issues through to job losses, etc.

Young Sam has already appeared on my blogHERE discussing depression (which many of you went to, shared and gave his efforts a big boost).

This is a follow-up post from him that I hope will be shared even more.

It should be noted that although Sam’s blog is especially aimed at Teenagers, he is trying to help everyone.

TSRA

When a family member tries to commit suicide, the entire family is plunged into confusion and grief. Life is instinctually valued by all of…

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Nightmare

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Nightmare.
Terrors buried deep
Creep
Out and stare
Me full in the face.
There is no hiding place
When the black mare
Stirs
From the stable.
Her coat sable
As night.
Banishes delight.

Awaking.
Shaking
Off fear
Yet nightmare crouches near.
In the shadows she hides
And bides
Her time waiting for sleep
Then out she doth creep.
I turn and run
But my dark mistress must have her fun.
When day is done
She will come.