Tag Archives: creative writing

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Poem: My days grown old

Poem: My days grown old .

My days grown older,

Years, tales, life unfolds .

The mold of me,

The laugh the worry the joy the pain the plain, day free.

Yes it’s me!

Etched deep, in my visage the years.

Yet I am still the same, no fears.

The same old me,

rich lines my profile shows.

My eyes,

Own smiles now.

Fine lines laugh each every way.

Each play a role, in the day by day.

Once,

We owned the bud of youth,

Soft cherub cheeks

Filled our angels mask,

Now past, yet still.

She is beside me,

Unseen, unheard her wings are always near.

A feather brushed away the tear

A smile shared in my own eye

A knowing helping hand

Stands to strengthen all

Should we fall, Should we stall,

Should we need the help & call.

Gentle now I smile I cry,

With life & time gone by,

Let that angel,

Through me ….

With me,

In me,

FLY.

Liam

Basthorst Dez 2013

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Poem: The Kiss

Poem: The Kiss

Morning blue spread wide across an open sky,

My thought caught the kiss as you flew by.

Synchronicity’s ring,

Phone goes pling.

Alone I lie.

Your selfy puckered lips I miss.

Were the ones that sent that kiss.

The miss, the moment, the meaning of just you.

I’ve often wondered how,

The magic meaning of just now.

….Pling…

We instantaneously know its true.

The me, the you, the who.

We are and have become.

Yet, would you let it pass?

Let this fade, our colours fragmenting in particles.

Dusty whisps which will float

Alone a memory.

Alone in light.

Alone the sofa.

Where we might have spent,

Another gorgeous loving night.

Morning blue spreads wide across a fresh new sky.

The lips I kiss, the you I miss.

The day begins.

Why do I wet my cheek?

A tear, my fear, my cry?

I wonder who are you and who am I.

Liam March 2017

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Poem: Autumn 🍂

Poem : Autumn

Autumns gold nips chilly at my finger tips,

Pale blue spreads fresh, across an open sky,

A Lark ring sings cheerful echoes passing by.

Peaceful captured , moment morning here am I.

The Beech crown sheds its leaf so slow

Golden treasure scattered freely far below

While Chestnut throws in handfuls free, Brown round nuts,

seeking happy children find with glee.

The wild rose,

reds & mauves now dry,

fragrant perfumed memory,

paint my inner eye.

While rose hip swollen buds await the fearless touch.

From those whom thorns & jelly mean so much.

Fields fresh shawn, grain set free.

Harvest past let merry be,

the folk , the farmer , you & me

It’s time to take that cup of tea.

Autumns turning chime, the season here to be.

Liam

Eckernforde October 2012

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The importance of poetry.

Importance is a subjective indicator of poetic value. As a concept, poetry is the recognized attribution of a subject’s significance or value as defined by a perspective .

In its most basic form, poetry is used to define subjects that are essential and relevant from those that are not.

Poetry as “having meaning or worth, deserving or requiring attention, and having power, authority, or influence. Affecting subjective change through objective importance.

Liam

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What is poetry?

Poetry (the term derives from a variant of the Greek term, poiesis, “making”) is a form of literature that uses aesthetic and rhythmic qualities of language—such as phonaesthetics, sound symbolism, and metre—to evoke meanings in addition to, or in place of, the prosaic ostensible meaning. The art of audial imaginative imagery.

😁🎶

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Poem: The Feathers

Poem: The Feathers

As a feather, fell gentle from the wing.

Bunched once together featherd,flight it did bring.

Light it now dances on the breeze.

Let this please those souls of sad content ,

Let this ease the load from madness bent ,

Let this tease the tortured heart so spent .

The feather flies, its flight denies

The gravity of the deed.

It floats and spins through unseen seas.

Of surging current of clear fresh breeze.

Let my children the feathers be.

Dropped from the wing once family .

Caught captured flung

Spun swirled through life

The feather might try with all its might

But flight, grew on the wing

Lets sing, redemptions song .

can this song ,in text be wrong ?

Feathers lost along the flight

Life’s journey long , the wing , the right

The wrong, the up the down

Together once we all began.

Feathers on a wing, we sing the song

The song life gave us all

All along.

Now old I lay my tired head,

Upon those feathers and go to bed.

Eckernförde 2012

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Poem: Your laughter

Poem: Your Laughter

I love the laugh, the smile which sparkles in your eye.

Collect them in a magic box

For moments when I cry.

I’ll keep the key forever

Wrapped warm within my heart .

For we will sing & laugh & play,

this day, fresh new to start.

When alone in wonder, my thoughts play hide & seek.

A chuckle found inside that box which helps to let me keep.

You warm & cozy calling deep down within my soul.

My memories of a happy face, the place to call my home.

So sing sweet tunes my darling,

Of times we’ve shared and true.

Take my key for this deep night,

The love so strong of you.

Liam November 2017

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Poem: Evening Rest

Poem: Evening Rest

Evening Rest

As this day now leaves to lie,

Rays once warm they fill the sky.

In colors changing to heaven bright.

The blues to hues of reds, the white the golden might.

Of a day departed and with me too.

One more moment of bliss complete.

Of touch and love of fleeting happy you.

Yes, you an angel dancing high.

Dancing clouds you cross my eye .

Your horizon lies with me this day.

You fill the night with a starry sky,

with sparks,

with thoughts,

with dreams,

with intervening flashes we unite.

Build a picture, a cosmology ,

A heaven, a party book of light.

Closing now my eyes to sleep

The wonder in my breast I’ll keep.

Till waking neigh on mornings wing

A new, a day together we’ll sing.

Liam July 2017

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Poem: Troubled

Poem: Troubled

You leave me again tumbling,

Stumbling on your shadow.

Our thoughts and laughter like too…. perfume me.

yet still

I hear heart ache tangled in your hair

I feel & feel & freeze.

The play set act scene,

You moved in me again.

Touché

The game set match,

You won in me again.

It’s all in

I’ll give in

You take my heart

Cake and eat it too.

You

Away

I stay, steam rising from my tears,

I may, yet it’s you who that’s gone astray.

This day

Liam

Haby 2014

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On writing Poetry

On writing poetry.

Writing poetry is like chewing bubble gum. You rip the packaging off an idea and it’s initially all sweet and tough.

As you then chew into it, my thoughts warm up making the core idea soften. I move & mould it constantly around in my mind. Like the squeeze and squish of gum in your mouth, it oozes flavor inspiring more action. Words are pretty plastic if you chew on them long enough too.

Now it’s not so much a thinking thing, it’s more mastication. Trying out the different flavors words make with one another.

Like alliteration, onomatopoeia, some times even disambiguation finds its authenticity in a poem.

A moment of inspiration sometimes arrives as I focus on blowing the bubble. I become deep, it’s moving towards the finishing line now.

The pointe grows like a pink bubble on my lips .

Intension, Momentum , inclusion, exhalation, expansion and finally expulsion….yes!

Splat!!!!

With gum stuck across my face and a happy smile it’s been done again.

A poem plastered across a page, splats of ink sometimes smeared and illegible but it’s done, the bubble blown and you can get back to doing your life again or simple blow another. Liam