Posts tagged ‘poetry’

The Gift

Wishing all a Happy Holiday Season. I will be back on January. In the meantime, I leave you with this Christmas poem I just wrote. I hope you enjoy it.

 

The Gift

 

A snowflake shimmers

Falling down to Earth

A blanket of purity

Awaiting a birth.

 

Far away a star twinkles bright the night,

Diamonds on velvet

The firmament shines,

Announcing King, Child.

 

The hay in the manger

Keeps Majesty warm,

While chorus of Angels

Sing quiet nearby.

 

A mother and father

Observe with delight,

A Savior from heaven,

Their innocent child.

 

Whenever you see a snowflake, a star

Or nested the Earth in the eyes of a child,

Think of Heaven’s Love

For you, wrapped up on that night.

 

 

 

Love,

Inkspeare

Photo by M.A.D.

Photo by M.A.D.

 

 

Heresy – A Writer’s Trial

Poetry comes to me at odd moments. I wrote this poem  when I opened my eyes Saturday morning. I keep pen and paper next to me for moments like this. Don’t ask, I have no idea.

 

Heresy – A Writer’s Trial

 

Typo, here on the white page

Reader bewitched, writer cursed

The execution begins.

 

Beheaded, hanged, flagellation of the pen,

Blood cleansed, Ink purification.

Punishment, stones casted.

 

Writer’s heresy exposed

Excommunicated from the page

Sins atoned.

 

Book, Bell, and Candle,

Reader’s assembly, Typo exposed

Writer is hanged on the page,

Ink turns to blood.

 

Photo by M.A.D.

Photo by M.A.D.

 

Eternal Fibers of the Soul

I am an observer of life by nature. Even as a child, I spent hours in solitude observing and thinking (according to my mom). While going to my physical therapy sessions, I have been able to meet and observe many of the people working very hard to heal their body. This experience inspired this poem.

 

 

Eternal Fibers of the Soul

 

Broken promises, broken dreams

Broken bones, broken links.

Stretched fibers of the soul,

Ligaments of faith, wisdom, and hope.

 

Pieces coming together,

Bits of healing, bits of pain,

Bursts of living, crying, hustling

Not in vain.

 

Crooked steps,

Blind hope turns to faith,

Reviewed, renewed, redone,

Outstretched but not undone.

 

Eternal soul

Fibers of humanity

Flesh and bones

All in one, one in all.

On Faith and Writing

When I read poetry I notice one thing, the poem is sad/dark, almost as if it bleeds through the page, or on the other hand, it celebrates life, is an exaltation of nature or love, or whatever the subject seems to be, therefore transmitting a peaceful or joyful vibe through the page. It seems as if a tormented soul or a happy one wrote the lines, although that is not necessarily true.

Ernest Hemingway once said,”There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Maybe he was right, but what comes out of your veins? What do you bleed? I have found that for me, inspiration may come from nowhere, unexpected, and sometimes, it is directly influenced by my mood. I’ve noticed that when my faith dwindles, so does my writing. It is when my faith is up that I do my best writing, whether I may be going through a difficult situation or not. By faith I don’t mean religion, but my disposition to believe and trust. That said, I can predict when my motivation will suffer, and when my writing will lack. How to prevent this?

The answer is not so much to prevent, because life is full of ups and downs – it is human life’s nature. Instead, maintaining a conscious positive and high disposition (with effort and despite the circumstances) is what seems to help. I must keep up a high level of trust and frequency to support the flow of my writing, otherwise, it becomes forced, superficial, and dense. So my writing seems to be tied to my faith.

“I learned never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.” Ernest Hemingway

The Old Writers

While reading a 2011 Country Diary, I came across these old writing quotes, and I think they are interesting and reflect the old writing wisdom, and still applicable today. I decided to share them with you.

“Anyone who wishes to become a good writer should endeavor, before he allows himself to be tempted by the more showy qualities, to be direct, simple, brief, vigorous, and lucid.” – Henry Watson Fowler, The King’s English, 1908

“Dear authors! Suit your topics to your strength, and ponder well your subject and its length; or lift your load before you’re quite aware what weight your shoulder will, or will not, bear.” – George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824)

“Then, rising with Aurora’s light, the Muse invoked, sit down to write; Blot out, correct, insert, refine, enlarge, diminish, interline.”Jonathan Swift (1667-1745)

“Sleep on your writing; take a walk over it; scrutinize it of a morning; review it of an afternoon; digest it after a meal; let it sleep in your drawer a twelvemonth; never venture a whisper about it to your friend, if he be an author especially.” Amos Bronson Alcott (1799-1888)

 

I think there is good wisdom here. I found the last line of the last one a bit funny, but certainly speaks of how protective and zealous as writers we are with our work and ideas. However, today the internet has blessed us with a way of coming together and share those ideas, ask for advice, and give to one another. I hope you enjoy these bits of old wisdom.

 

Versatile

versatile-blogger-wordpress

I want to thank Oawritingspoemspaintings for The Versatile Blogger nomination. I’m honored because someone thought of this blog enough to nominate it. I don’t take these awards for granted.

If you enjoy poetry and art, as well as a bit of everything in good measure, stop by Oawritingspoemspaintings and enjoy what this blogger has to offer. You will find something to your liking. The blog is undergoing a bit of fixing the images, but be patient, it will get done; in the mean time, you can enjoy the many other sections this versatile blogger has.

Thanks again Oawritingpoemspaintings for nominating Inkspeare.

The Closet

Linen Closet

Linen Closet (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A bit different from what I usually write, maybe dark and creepy, but inspiration comes in all colors, and sometimes, unexpected 🙂

 

The Closet

 

Hanging by a thread,

Pinky lets go of the rope,

Fighting to grab thin air,

I began to fall, deep dark hole.

 

Nails screeching the atmosphere,

Long way down the depth of soul,

The slow fall, miles of hope,

Pretending the bottom never touch.

 

The closet calls, inviting

A safe haven of obscurity

Knowing truth, I avoid the call

For if I go in, I will never be back.

 

Not lost of body,

Not lost of soul,

But of the mind,

Long lost, lone gone.