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.

Thursday, 2 January 2014

"Tranquil after the Tempest" (Entry 551)

Tranquil after the tempest.  
Clear and distant. 
World in focus.
Crows call and crowd on cobbled beach. 
Pebbles tumbled like peanuts in a forlorn drunk's bar bowl. 
Ducks fly in haphazard formation,
To smack onto mucky water.
Squadron permission to land - dive into arrival, flap, slap, splash then rest. 
Starlings flit, too many to count
Are they really there?
As they skim sea's surface,
Playing havoc with the eyes,
Dark specks above white wave flecks,
Seeming to exist in numerous realms. 
Spectral dots in spacial dimension. 
Lone seagull fights for territory 
On surf and turf. He can hold his own. 
Calm after the storm?
No fear!
Life goes on, even here. 

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