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.

Wednesday, 31 October 2012

"Going Underground" (Entry 123)

Depths of suffocating soil surrounds
the casket of the last
breath long gone
and into the decay of seeping underground.
To swell and soften where naught but
wormage and crawled unseen can
listen to the lack of yell.
And yet.
All must return to dust,
all except for
Soul's energetic which will ne'er be destroyed.
Continued existence overjoyed.

***************

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Tuesday, 30 October 2012

"Tuesday Delivery" (Entry 122)

The parcel arrived on Tuesday.
Even though he didn't sign for it.
He didn't need to, you see.
The postman trilled the doorbell,
It came with a cheery smile.
To big for the letterbox,
Feared to leave it outside
(In case of sneaky thieves.)
The grin left with the Postie,
Leaving only the package in his hands,
Which were soon empty,
For the parcel that arrived on Tuesday
Sat unwrapped upon the kitchen counter.
Brown, square, half-a-shoe-box size.
No markings except for postal dents,
Address label, correct amount of Queen's headed stamps
Plus lots of shiny tan sticky tape,
Peeling at the edges,
Crying out to be picked at, lifted and ripped.
His fingers flexed, desiring to tear at the box
And touch the secrets beneath,
But he couldn't.
It wasn't his.

Monday, 29 October 2012

"Broken Promise" (Entry 121)

Promises broken, promises made.
Heart of joy begins to fade.
Promises made, promises broken.
Love's disappointments left unspoken.
Delight turned to lies and deceit.
All turned to dust, because of a cheat.

Sunday, 28 October 2012

"Inside The Circle" (Entry 120)

Inside the circle... MagicK happens.
Inside the circle... YOU are between worlds.
Not heavens or Earths
But a place of your OWN making.
Here be Dragons,
The compass takes form of Angels or Spirits.
Inside the circle... YOU are part of the orb.
Inside the circle... ENERGY twirls.

Saturday, 27 October 2012

"Bubble" (Entry 119)

When I lived in the bubble
Life was clinical.
The untouchable
No germs could reach.
Neat, tidy and bleached.
Sterile in a mutilated world.
Last of my kind.
Needed protection.
Guarded against the things out there.
Out there that would destroy me.
Somehow I felt,
I knew,
They were protecting themselves from me.

Friday, 26 October 2012

"Nap" (Entry 118)

Dip into tap. Time to take a nap.
The cat lapped at the sap of life.
Nip at the cap to rap on this 'n' that.
Ain't it fab?

Thursday, 25 October 2012

"Where The Ancients Grow" (Entry 117)

The tall ancient pines hide the sky within the wild wood.
A place before time of humans, but in that dip where the extinct still exist.
The air is fresh, only breathed by sincere nature,
Those unmanufactured living as they should.
They are called the hidden ones.

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

"Expect Pleasure" (Entry 116)

Tis the reached out fingertip,
Or before the taste upon the lip.
Tis the rush towards the sigh
That second moment where dreams can lie.

"A Question of Paris" (Entry 115)

There's a city somewhere called Paris.
I think I heard it's in France.
I wish I could go. I wonder how far it is?
Let's go and play and dance!

Monday, 22 October 2012

"The World Asleep" (Entry 114)

The world never sleeps and always sleeps.
Beneath a darkened veil.
When sunlight peeps, the breath it seeps
to tell the earth a tale.

Sunday, 21 October 2012

"Newness in an Instant" (Entry 113)

The gasp of newness,
of old existence dying overwhelms.
The grasp gone.
There's light at the end of that tunnel.
Being pulled forward,
unable to control the movement.
Motion mechanical.
Through darkness to pure bright white.
Chaos and confusions and love.
Wrapped up in warmth,
in your new body.
From death to new born life.
In an instant.

Saturday, 20 October 2012

"What is Lonely?" (Entry 112)

She liked it there.
Alone
in her room.
Safe.
Belongings to hand.
People thought she must be bored and
lonely.
But what is lonely?
She wasn't.
Plenty to do.
The sort that was comfortable
in her own skin.
That's when she was
alone,
that is.
To begin with,
they tried
to get her involved.     Outside.     In the world.
Then
they stopped.
No one bothered anymore.
She wasn't bothered.
No more than she was lonely.
It was when she wasn't
alone.
That's what bothered her.

Friday, 19 October 2012

"Who's The Monster?" (Entry 111)

In the back of the cupboard
lies a monster.
Asleep and cosy and dry.
He's cuddled up warm in the corner,
if you ask me,
I do not know why.
Maybe this monster likes it,
where it's safe, mouldy and dark.
Though it's funny.
'Cause I'd want it hot and bright,
but then again,
I am not a dust bunny!

*********

111 completed - 444 to go!
Thank you for coming along on the verse voyage.

Thursday, 18 October 2012

"First Time" (Entry 110)

"There's a first time for everything!"
He yelled.
As he jumped out of the plane.
All about firsts.
The adrenaline junkie.
Trying all things dangerous
and strange
and new.
Not one to live in fear,
so everyone thought.
They were wrong.
Everything he did was because of fear.
A childhood full of scared and scarred memories.
Only way to deal -
Go for it!
Full engines, raring to go.
Cars and mountains
and treks and bikes
and rivers and oceans
and food. Any notion.
Trying everything that came his way.
Even today.
First time for everything,
as this red letter day
led him to skydive.
First time for everything
and today
was his first time to die...
and his last.

Wednesday, 17 October 2012

"Midnight" (Entry 109)

She scooped up the ball of fluff.
Warm pink paws stretched to show mini claws.
Matching tongue stuck out in dozy yawn as the kitten woke.
Bright inquisitive citrine eyes scanned over her face,
taking in her new owner's features,
as recognition of fun times and fierce companionship was born.
A jolt of future echoed through both of them.
Joined together in the moment.
Cat shelter manager enquired on her new name.
She watched the cat nibble her fingers and rub its head against her palm.
The fur unmarked, a dark pool of black calm.
Hints of blue seems to sparkle as the sun shone upon.
A black so deep you want to dive, to fall into,
to plunge further and further into the Universe.
"The colour of Midnight,"she murmured. "Midnight."

Tuesday, 16 October 2012

"Happy Times" (Entry 108)

A group of friends,
and one to love.
Dreams fulfilled.
Blue skies above.
Dinner delights.
Films so sappy.
Warmth of laughter.
The times I was happy.

Monday, 15 October 2012

"The Innocence Sleep" (Entry 107)

There's no difference between
a sleeping child or kitten.
Breath calm and light,
snuffles of warm delight.
Eyelids flicker as lashes bat away the day.
Legs aquiver as in dreams, they play.
Creating their energy score
for their next adventures and more.
In that breath so calm and light,
warm and cozy in the night.

Sunday, 14 October 2012

"A Mix of Tears" (Entry 106)

you name it
you said it
you saw it
you sang
from stories of sadness
horrors and
thrillers
that go bang
from adverts
to true stories
my own life
and tragics
who die
even comedies
a flower
the view
They ALL make me cry.

Saturday, 13 October 2012

"The Painting" (Entry 105)

Over the mantle, there was a print.
Chinese lady - face a green tint.
I grew up watching her calm smile.
Always there in times good or vile.

She went out of fashion, called awfully tacky.
Those who kept her displayed were considered wacky.
So, off to the attic, hidden, she had to go.
Now she's back on our wall. Thank Tretchikoff's retro!

*********

Vladimir Tretchikoff

Friday, 12 October 2012

"Summer Picnics" (Entry 104)

It's wet, and yet,
we'd better stick with it.
More ants! It's pants!
Now, I'm gonna have a fit!
Sun shines. Tan lines.
Who forgot to pack the lotion?
Our ass. On grass.
Get set for picnicky commotion!

Thursday, 11 October 2012

"The Turn of a Card" (Entry 103)

The worn yellow edges seemed to melt
and meld into her fingers,
warmed by her energy and expectations.
Tossed between hands like infants playing ball
rather than a deft juggler
Instructions told her to split the pack
then spread.
Followed orders, with parched humour
thought on how often she'd obeyed his
selflish
same barks.
Three cards chosen
from the lie of curled corners and dulled backs,
half wishing she'd never borrowed them from flaky friend.
(However well meaning.)
Best read them
yourself
alone
without booklet or another interpretation.
To follow her gut
her intuition.
Fingers outstretched,
pads pulled her future towards her,
as she turned the first card...

Wednesday, 10 October 2012

"Camp First Contact" (Entry 102)

Cold of the night began to seep
into sleeping bag.
The type of chill that groundsheet
could not still.
Unstaved, to snore and grumble
in undreamed sleep.
Comatosed hand scratched at arse
within quilted cocoon,
replied with a grunt and a fart of
satisfaction as, deep and low,
the rumbling began.
Dull throve of engine getting closer,
churning up the skies to
whip the air,
and rip the flimsy tent away.
No longer sheltered,
at visitors, he gasped and gapped.
At first light and contact,
now totally awake.

Tuesday, 9 October 2012

"Look Back" (Entry 101)

To turn around and watch the past.
The times gone by, that couldn't last.
To see regrets and remembered bliss.
Memories melded into this.
Stop looking back and circle through
Towards your future, the right thing to do.

Monday, 8 October 2012

"Attention!" (Entry 100)

The victory of impact
will lead no more to
undefeated whimpers
Eaten away by the ghosts
Of decay, fighting to create
New cavities.
Here comes the cavalry!
To act of the drain
and weave in the futile.
There's a knack to celebration.
Return to barracks and
Barricade the world.

"Bit By Diseased Sound" (Entry 99)

I live my life in sound bites,
Trite audio tripe delivered in
Contacted minutes.

Minute mumbling of
"How are you?"
"Been up to much?"
"Good to see you!"
"Seen such and such?"
"Is that the time?"
"It's almost Noon!"
(A wave with mime)
"We'll catch up soon."

But always said in upwards inflection
"You're looking well."
I smile, say thanks, but in reflection.
I'd rather say, "Go to Hell!"

Add up interactions reckoning,
Sum total of 24/7 small talked
equals hour or so past beckoning
Into the abyss of time's spent walked.

To speak of books and art and
Dreams and fears and fantasy.
Long discussions of the world with
Laughter. I yearn for witty company.

But it's all I have
These seconds of gossiping chatter.
The rest is silence.
I long for stimulus for the grey matter.

Saturday, 6 October 2012

"Head Break" (Entry 98)

Smash!
Head cram.
Full of memories breaking out.
Crash!
Brain bam.
Throbbing ache, I could do without.

"I Dream Of" (Entry 97)

I dream of honey flakes and
Hippopotami and hungry hamsters
And the hound that wants to fly.
I dream of happiness and
Hypnotherapy and hiccups
And home, that's the place we want to be.

Thursday, 4 October 2012

"To Be Gifted Hindsight" (Entry 96)

Power of old
moulded
create life's decision.
Future hindsight,
tonight,
show me the true vision.

Wednesday, 3 October 2012

Tuesday, 2 October 2012

"Mirrored Imagination" (Entry 94)

Slip through the illusion
Passed the eccentric cupboard.
Discover a world like the other,
In reflection, a parallel life,
Mirrored - imagine to take half of one
And fifty percent of the other
To make unbreakable balanced whole.
What of the other halves?
Fractioned faction of fractured fractals.
Dimensionally damaged, to be destroyed?
Or locked within their pained pane?
Who's to choose who's to lose?
Leave brittle imitation behind the glass,
And stay a silvery amalgam as we are.
It's all surface anyway.

Monday, 1 October 2012

"Sing the Song" (Entry 93)

Just bing the bong,
Or ding the dong,
Try to ping the pong,
Even jingle the jangle,
Whatever your angle.
Remember to sing the song
of LIFE!