“Poetic Bloomings”, the shared poetry blog of Marie Elena Good and Walt Wojtanik, has honoured me with their selection as the Web Wednesday Interview on this day. In it, Marie Elena and I discussed the poetic process, bagpipe music, Robert Burns and Mother Scotland, among other topics. I would be fully appreciative if you would give this piece a view. Thank you again to Marie Elena Good and Walt Wojtanik, as well as all the contributors for their support and encouragement.
Learn your lesson, Dyson,
and surely don’t think twice, son.
Sure, Scots pipers flounce and flirt,
not all guys look good in a skirt!
–The poetic form Clerihew is featured at Poetic Bloomings
Treading to keep your head above water,
catching a lungful from time to time.
Going down too many times to count,
but you struggle to survive. You remain
alive with the words that drip with the emotion
that has always been your forte. Drowning in a sea
of night sweats and blankets tangled, and things
that go bump have you stumped as your sleeplessness
offers only anxiety and paranoia. Hold your breath
and allow rest to resuscitate your muse.
You’ve abused yourself far too long. Be strong
and let nature heal what it has destroyed.
The king is not dead, he merely sleeps.
We think it is about time.
You can’t keep a good poet down. Best wishes and thoughtful prayers for Walt Wojtanik an extraordinary poet who has fallen prey to his demon. He will surely bounce back.
Bound to the life we’ve created
and not necessarily the one planned,
each woman and man has a choice.
We can use our voices to call out the
unfairness that abounds, or remain
the prisoners we have prescribed to be.
Our enslavement can be nothing
from which good can be extricated.
Chained to these walls of self-doubt
and indecision, our mission is clear.
Shout out for all to hear and cheer
for the hero who escapes from the
tretchery of the villianous and destructive.
The only way to be productive
is to set yourself free and flee.
The wind across the lough is playful,
a fine mix of mirth and inversion;
diversion comes as a daily dose,
a closer walk with The One Being.
A cloud pocked horizon lays nestled
with beams of solar sweetness teeming.
I’ve been dreaming of a day like this
for a forthnight and now that it’s here
I take my pause to refesh, so blessed
in the dawning of every new day.
Each more precious than the next for sure.
A cure for the aches and pains of life.
Strife vacates and it’s never too late.
A glorious day to be alive!
A new poetic form developed by Marie Elena Good of Poetic Bloomings:
Poesia di Tema
Grief, she’s a loyal mistress
to a fault, but not hers.
Colm MacNish has been
both suitor and antagonist,
an anarchist in the ways
of a fond and common heart.
A quiet alcove, a point where
rendezvous met passion,
fashioned from a molted overhang.
But interludes of his romantic
crassness, served no purpose
of self or otherwise. Her eyes
Haunt him: pleading, beckoning,
luring him to despair’s crumbled edge.
Her melody plays within him,
a din whose volume rises
with each sordid thought of her.
Her hands, no longer caressing,
lay resting acrost her still chest.
Gentility abandoned in stark reality.
And grief has replaced her.
Colm longs for her countenance,
a remembrance most sad,
had he paid heed to her supplicant
cries, she may have averted
deaths forceful grasp. But alas,
gone she was. Colm MacNish
had an eternal wish. A projectile
befitting a man of his caliber
burst from its chambered rest.
Their bench sits now, vacant and decrepit,
worm meal in their absence.