555 Days... The Continuation

Welcome to 555 Days as a Poet by The Crafty Scribe

Back in 2010, I challenged myself to write a poem or a short verse a day, and post it to a blog. 555 Days as a Poet by The Crafty Scribe is the continuation of the experiment.

I gave myself 18 months to recover from the original daily blog postings, and now, I am ready to start it all over again. Although as I was beginning in the middle of the year, I thought 6 months was too short a time after my last experience.

"If I could complete a year of poems, how about 18 months?" I thought. I worked out that would be 549 days. I could have rounded it up to 550 to included New Years Day 2014, but then I thought I'd go 5 better... to 555 days.

Why 555? According to many spiritual teachers, the number 555 is a sign of change and the flow of energy. I thought it related to the blog. I spent a year writing a poem every day, then rested for 18 months. Now the tide has turned. It's time to begin the flow of words in my life again.

I'm not a trained poet, just an enthusiastic scribe wanting to create something new each day. I don't truly know my stanza from my meter, but I hope to improve and get my poetic license someday! Expect the weird, the strange and the inner workings of the Crafty Scribe's mind. Let's ride the waves once more.

Please pass on the blog address to all your verse and lyrical loving friends. I hope you will join me, and read my daily scribbling.

Saturday 28 July 2012

"Green Flash. Dash!" (Entry 28)

The green flash of the last glimpse of
setting sun,
stayed on retinas,
when gone from view to become
Horizon hidden.

End of a perfect day.
Perfect holiday.
Bliss of the new,
relaxation revealed
by throwing off the mundane,
like taking the lid off the coffee cup,
let out the steam,
a time to cool down.

Lean back on tropical print padded chairs,
how this realities tropical life fares,
to sip exotically fruited
alcoholic booted cocktails
at dark wicker bar.

Watch the light change,
the spectacle of natural fireworks on slow,
from white hot to hazy yellow,
green flash, to reach orange,
warmth of deep chakral red towards
where purple dwells.

But wait!
There on the horizon,
a notice of something,
a flicker,
as if the whole edge of the world crumples
and sighs.

The party on-going surrounds,
vacation in celebration.
Time, just a moment, stops
and stomach knots.
As the ocean plays a trick,
to slip
backwards from the shore,
pulling further away,
had enough of play.

A second to stare.
To realise
to be aware.
To be part of the
pitiful handful to perceive.
To stand and run and
sound an alarm,
not now to grieve.

The ripple expands,
to wave in full spate,
to rush, to flood,
to overwhelm.
A surge on this spiteful day.
Tsunami!


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