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.
Showing posts with label business. Show all posts
Showing posts with label business. Show all posts

Tuesday, 25 June 2013

"Fast Food Fallacy" (Entry 349)

Most think on a treat. 
When it's more o' a trick. 
Biggest hoax ev'r conceived. 

Billion dollar industry wrapped up. 
Plastic food presented in
cardboard container-ship loads. 

Throw up food for a disposable society. 

As chains popped up on high streets,
Buttons pinged on pants, skirts and shirts world-wide. 
A world getting wider. 

Fast food joints for
Arthritic obese children
Who could never increase their pace beyond a waddle. 
A disgrace to the name, restaurant. 
Instead conveyor belts of convenience. 

Open a clogged vein of conscience. 
Don't take it to go. 
Just make it go away. 

Would you like your heart fried with that?

Monday, 13 August 2012

"The Life He Lived" (Entry 44)

They always said they expected it.
(Seeing the life he lived)
They said they always knew and reflected,
(Seeing the life he lived)
He disappeared from their cosseted world,
Living the life he lived.
It was when job lost, his lot unfurled.
Given the life he lived.

They smugly gossiped, he was out on a limb.
(Seeing the life he lived)

What can you expect from a man like him?
(Seeing the life he lived)

Sunday, 15 July 2012

"The Checkmate Alone" (Entry 15)

The table in the corner
is where he always sits,
plotting business manoeuvres
on red and white checked cloth.

Each move he makes a game of chess.
Salt races forward to take fork,
as he deploys mobile, laptop and
cappuccino into battle.

Occasionally he receives a visitor,
a subject or two,
this king of his corner table,
but mainly he rules,
then dines alone.