Tag Archives: poetry

Plaything

Hoping against hope
Is a slippery slope.
Will the phone ring
And bring
A temporary release,
A kind of peace?

Hope tenuous as fingers that on the cliff edge scrabble,
And a mouth dry as gravel.
Thoughts travel
Back:
A lack
Of control, Shown by a boy
With a shiny new toy.

The plaything once tried
The child cried
Out once more for the toy
That brought such joy,
But the bauble left
Leaving him bereft.

Should the phone not sound
No lesson profound
Will be learned
For the spurned
Boy
Will batten on a new toy.

Collapse

“For mine own good,
All causes shall give way. I am in blood
Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o’er”.
(Macbeth: Act 3, Scene 4).

The extraordinary and new
Does, through
The passing of the years
Engender ordinary tears.

Although normalisation may not lead to crying
Inside something is dieing,
The soul
Perhaps?
Then, at first unnoticed the whole
Edifice begins to collapse.

Masonry imperceptibly crumbles.
There may be mumbles of regret
And yet
Brick after brick tumbles.

Once a piece of the building has gone
A man may carry on
Down the same path
With a weary laugh,
Though the loss of a single brick
May his conscience prick.

We are all creative, are we not?

We are all, in our own way creative are we not?
The above thought came to me a week or so ago as I discussed advertising with a gentleman working in that industry. He is (or was when we fell into conversation) working on an advertisement for an animated pizza.
I have always had an ambivalent attitude towards advertising. On the one hand the industry does, in my opinion attempt to convince potential purchasers of similar (sometimes identical products) that the item produced by one manufacturer is better than another manufactured by a rival producer. In my experience Fairy, Bold or any other branded soap powder is equally effective at washing clothes and all the advertising to convince the potential purchaser of this product otherwise is so much froth and bubbles (forgive the weak pun)!
Advertising can perform a useful function in that it brings to the attention of potential consumers products of which they might otherwise have been unaware. Having acknowledged this benefit, I would add that this function is, in the days of the internet less useful than was previously the case. In the days of the World Wide Web one can, with the click of a mouse discover many things of which one was previously unaware (I must confess that on occasions I wish I had remained in blissful ignorance)! Be that as it may, advertising can, at its best act as a source of information to potential buyers of a multiplicity of products.
Despite my reservations regarding advertising, there is, in my mind no doubt that it is a creative industry. Certain ads stick in my head due to the fact that they are particularly amusing or contain a clip of beautiful music. They may not cause me to purchase the product being advertised. They do, however impress me as a piece of creative media and, on occasion artistic creativity. Being blind I can not see visual representations. Where I to possess sight I would, I feel sure be impressed by the utilisation by advertisers of the visual media in highly creative ways, including animated pizzas!
My creative outlet is via poetry. I burn to release a poem which is running around in my head trying to find a way out onto the virtual pages of this blog and, on occasions onto real paper via my books. Others use their hands to create. I have on one of my tables a beautiful carved turtle which I bought when visiting Sri Lanka in 2001. The turtle is highly tactile and the craftsman producing it obviously put a piece of himself into doing so. To give of oneself in the production of art whether literary or through the making of beautiful objects is the mark of a craftsman or artist. I have no idea whether the gentleman who produced the turtle which now lives in my living room was a lover of literature or painting. I have no doubt however that he is a true creator of beauty.
In conclusion, we are all creative and even if this creativity does not find an outlet, we do none the less possess the latent capacity to be creative whether via dancing pizzas, poetry or carved wooden turtles.

Kevin

The Fair

When we go to the fair
All life is there.
One’s fortune may be told
For a piece of bright gold
By the crone
Who seeing the lone
Girl, the one with the wistful look in her eye
Looks into her crystal ball and does lie.

“I see
What will be.
A tall dark handsome stranger comes your way”
She may say.
Or looking into the tea leaves and seeing only damp dust,
Thinks “needs must”
And a smile
Does beguile
In a thirsty heart.

We all play our part.
The storeholder does grin
For he offers baubles to win.
We take
And perhaps, afterwards, rue our mistake.

The day has barely begun.
Yet the fair goers after pleasure run.
All must have their fun
While the sun
Is high
In the sky.

At night the rides are idle.
A black cat does sidle
Into the fortune teller’s tent.
A clatter
As the crystal ball does shatter
And dreams that where never meant
Are forever rent.

Current Affairs

“I am a moral man” the editor said.
The weak dread
My investigations,
For my mission is to purify the nations!

My interest is the public good.
I would like to see the country free of vice
And my paper in every home, yes that would be nice!

What, you dare to ask about an editor’s private life?!
I tell you sir, I have a wife!
Working late with my secretary? what has that to do with you?!
She’s pretty, you say. Well, there’s no denying that’s true …!”

An Encounter

As a newly opened flower reaching for the sun
Your day has barely begun.
Would that I could stay here for a while
Talking to a girl without guile.

I wonder, would you smile
Where I to relate my thought?
And would I wriggle like a fish on a hook caught?
And wish
For the floor to open,
For words can not be unspoken.

You say
“Have a nice day”
But not in the American way.
I smile
Turn, and join the crocodile
Of commuters who have somewhere to go.