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 21 July 2012

"Love in Odd Places" (Entry 21)

Hidden in a corner,
the deep dark recesses,
where baseboard meets skirting board.

There is a crack.

It's slight,
but it's there.

If you look.

If you clean away
the gathered warren of dust bunnies,
a-brush away the supermarket stash of web woven flies
by its hoarder owner and home of the spider.

You will see the crack...

and sticking out
is a yellow corner of paper,
cracked, crumbled and crisp
like an autumn leaf,
or cold unkissed lips.

See the paper,
tweezer it out carefully,
cautious not to rip.
Now you have the whole note.

Capture it in your fingertips,
Finely unfurl the folds.

To read a love message

So heart wrenching,
yearning in adoration and devotion,
that tears will declare and
laughter will caress,
at the infatuation of affair within.

No names to shout upon this missive.
No clues to accuse or encourage.
Is it lovers long ago?
Boy to girl?
The vice of versa?
The twain of divine?
As lad to lad, or women entwined?
The erotic of exotic?
Or vanilla pod cuddle?
Love unrequited?
Or whole-heartedly indulged?

Maybe spider to victim?
Or fly to its mother?
Or fairy to angel?
Or a charm of magic,
for you from a future love?

Bask in words beloved,
then return back to its home,
a requited action for another
to discover.

What will you find hidden in your corner?

For hidden in a corner
of any room,

the deep dark recesses,
if you look,

There is a crack.

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