How to write poetry

Think of a very shallow premise, and
write it down as a short title. Then write
the first sentence, breaking the
line up after a few words so that, to the
unititiated, it looks a little like a stanza

Repeat, as each thought enters
your head.

Omit half of the punctuation but
instead add
additional emphasis
via one or two words alone on a line

Get sidetracked by the TV, the shininess of the
pixels on the computer, or simply forget the
overall purpose
and meaning of the work

Give up after three or four verses, and
go to the pub.

holiday romance

in the evening, we went down to the lake. There were
small fires burning from the others, the air
sweet and heavy, and rich with the noise of
constant movement

they looked at us as strangers, first, until passive
acceptance took over. Much easier for both sides that way
and we shared the bottles and the food amongst ourselves
as the evening moved to night

the shore of the lake was lit by a giant moon and we
bathed in its etherial silver glow. Music played with
laughter, each competing for our senses by its
own itensity

silent sounds filled the night, and the innocent canvas
of our dreams. We slept late, and well, the stroking of
passive water gentle against our slumber when
movement slid to rest

My ideal woman

Not being tied to the superficiality of surface image, I wouldn’t like to prescribe the appearance of my ideal woman. For something so special as love, image is secondary to the knowledge of perfect attraction.

Just so long as she owns a casino.

an evening looking out

they sit
side by side
the sounds washing over
and through
their thoughts as
the day draws to a close

against the tide
their hands
reach by instinct
to protect and
comfort
each and the other

she whose voice
speaks with love
and he
listening and joining
the flow of each
in perfect drift

I have now been teetotal for 3 weeks, a period that has included several evenings in the pub, and one at a party.

What a success, then, for obstinance.

An evening in paradise

He drove them home
with little in conversation as
you don’t have to talk when
there’s nothing to say

Closing the front door she
thanked him, and
pulled the handle
closed tight

Don’t go

Possible outcomes
bounced against their thoughts
unspoken, now locked in
house and car

Instead, nothing

just weak smiles and
thanks
of an evening completed
for another week

Ameneded 4 June 2014