A Haiku
Those last late days of summer,
a last chance to make memories,
so warm and sweet to touch…
The late days of Summer
poetry
Working hard, Staying Busy
These days its all about the hustle
Working hard and staying busy,
today the only way to be,
for to be employed today,
is to be lucky indeed.
No pain, no gain
A tale of perseverance in life
No, Pain, no gain,
it’s what the life coaches say.
Perserverance and tenacity,
the keys to a free and fullfilling life.
No job left half done,
no stone in life left unturned.
Growing on our journey,
learning more each day.
A life lived full of adventure,
is worth taking to the grave.
Exercise for the soul
Walking on a sunny summer’s evening is much more the just exercise
Walking the road to nowhere,
on a sunny summers evening,
legs and mind in perfect harmony,
exercise for mind, body and soul.
Sugar and stuff
An addicts relapse
No sex, no drugs, no rock n roll,
just sugar and the rush it gives,
a different kind of feeling,
and damage to health done.
I thought you and me had said goodbye,
gone our separate ways,
after all your just a food stuff,
how addictive can you be.
Turns out more than I thought,
six months of hard work and change,
but you were hiding in the wings,
ready to catch me out.
Is it boredom, sadness, frustration,
I just don’t have a clue,
what I do know is we got close again,
how many times do I have to say no?
For me you are like a poison,
will send me to my grave.
Sugar this time you will go away,
time to man up and to be brave…
So many drafts, so little done
A tale of a disorganized writer
So many drafts but so little getting done,
none of them inspiring my mind to hit complete,
sitting on my minds desk causing a complete mess.
Writing is supposed to be fun and involving,
a passion , a hobby, an escape from the world.
Who knew it could be so demanding,
another pressure added to the day,
it’s these thoughts the pile up,
stop the creative process in its tracks.
Those drafts will be completed some day,
have the knowledge that inspiration will strike,
tomorrow or the next day just like it always has before.
Those drafts will one day publish
clutter up the desk no more,
those words will form their own stories,
fly from mind to page.
Just need a spark of inspiration,
to feel the finish line…
When inspiration seems so far away
A tale not of writers block, but of being locked out of creativity
Stress levels running high and morale is getting low,
bad signs for creative health, inspiration hard to find.
That one creative spark so often found in the minds eye,
seems to have gone missing I really can’t think why?
So many inspirations stand surrounding me,
but none seems to be the one.
That idea which gets my mind attention,
that special one that just runs free.
When the words flow from head to paper,
and the world just dissapears.
A walk, a run or some other exercise,
to free my body from my mind,
to feel myself be free.
Open to inspiration,
to unlock my creativity.
Lost in a dream
A tale of night time and rest
Lost in the moment,
dreaming the night away,
visions so vivid,
waking memory vague.
To dream is so delicious,
feelings and emotions previously trapped
bubble up to the surface
the video tape on playback.
A chance to re-live and re-learn,
the moments of the past,
knowing that the movie won’t last,
with one final look I wake up and it’s gone.
It’s morning time now,
best get on with the day,
then wait for night time again,
to get lost in my dreams.
My work is lost forever
A poem about the frustration of lost writing
A disaster or a masterpiece,
which one we do not know,
scattered to the four corners,
the refresh button,
delivered the devastating blow.
Your gone forever wandering,
around the internet,
in the great recycling bin,
inside the online world.
The frustration and the anger,
only got myself to blame,
using online tools,
the weakest link,
in my writing game.
Going forward ill be stronger,
lost work will be no more.
A lesson learned in application,
of process and seriousness.
Lost work is so frustrating,
never knowing the outcome.
Thoughts put down on paper,
that disappear without a trace.
The barbeque
Mans last domain and his summer throne
Cooking with fire made by man,
takes us back to a simpler time,
so powerful and primative,
plus it makes food taste good.
It’s mans throne in the summer,
our last domain of control,
even the kids recognize,
authority of the king,
when he’s stood cooking at the grill.
In control of his world,
we stand on his every word,
waiting for the food and fun to come.
Happy times with family,
shared in the summer sun,
food and beer and stories,
the days go on and on.
Writing for thought - expanding creativity through the joy of writing 