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.

Sunday 11 November 2012

"Last Stop Before The Long Journey" (Entry 134)

Train slowed its tranced tracked tack.
"Baston Longacre"
Last stop before arrival at her own.
Not her own. His.
Last breath on a long journey.
Too long.
Tip of the country to the end.
Many engines. Five changes.
A stop away.
He knew she was coming.
He'd be at the station.
Waiting.
Expectantly.
With flowers.
Probably crimson Roses. Her favourite.
He knew that.
She'd told him. In emails.
Was she ready?
Not for flowers, but what they meant.
Love.
Their love.
Together.
Their relationship had been easy,
with miles apart,
only video calls, phones and emails to carry them on.
It had been fun.
Exciting.
Was that a crime?
Now what?
Reality.
Living together.
It's what they wanted. What they planned.
She stood on the platform at Baston Longacre and watched the train move on.

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