Prolific

Prolific? Me? I hardly think
and yet I guess that’s true
as writing poems every day
is something that I do
A little snapshot of my life
Something every day
as there’s so much of it to see
and so much here to say
So I’ll just keep on writing
as I can’t stop you see
for it’s a special passion
and completely part of me

©Jemverse

Photo – me, writing – Bezann Photography

Poem found

I found a good word
which would make a good start
at the front of a poem
of which it was part

So I placed it right there
and thought of the rest
and the spaces they’d fill
where they’d look their best

And when it was done
and the order was sound
I read the words back
of the poem I’d found

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Inspiration II

What is my inspiration?
I’ve been asked this many times
where do I as poet find
the substance for these lines?

Well, there’s a simple answer
because it’s all about the things
that I see all around me
and the pleasure that all brings

For there is something lovely
to be found, I find, and said
to bring a ray of sunshine
when, if truth be told, instead

the reality is something else
and forgiven we would be
for feeling pretty miserable
about most things we see

But there’s the ‘rub’ of course as well
the gift of every poet
to sew the seeds of happiness
in words, and don’t we know it!

For here is opportunity
to paint a picture that
the reader can escape to
and keep sanity intact

So what’s my inspiration?
it is all I see and do
which I will duly craft to words
and daily bring to you.

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

The Visitor II

We had a little visitor
who startled us last night
there behind the cupboard glass
perched and in plain sight
A little chap, brown and petite
his presence now declared
though how he found his way in there
was not something he shared

Suffice to say that Obi
our Jack Russell/Dachshund cross
was not exactly happy
at his being there because
he barked and barked and barked some more
with angry doggy words
“Get out of my house, you mouse
This really is absurd”

Later when we went to bed
we left the door ajar
hoping that the little chap
would leave and go afar
But this morning he’d decided
to find the waste bin in the hall
so he really hadn’t ventured
all that very far at all

As it happened though, convenient
for I took the bin and him
out the back into the garden
where I did some emptying
And as the contents scattered
on the ground out there I spied
the little chap escape and run
under the shed to hide

So the ending of this story is
I’m very pleased to say
a nice one as our visitor
following his stay
was able with a little help
to leave behind our house
for the continuing adventures of
a little brown house mouse

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Five in the morning

Five in the morning
September, still dark
and as usual midweek
I’m up with the lark
The world is still silent
the night not yet done
though a tinge in the East
shows the morning has come

And a whisper seems loud
like a shout as my pen
scratches the surface
with sounds now and then
As words from my mind
find the surface and lay
fresh on the paper
with something to say

And I love this still time
it is as a friend
a comfort and solace
on which to depend
It instils inspiration
unmeasured and free
to use and exploit
by the poet in me

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Spinning words

Sought after, captured
the words like a star
Precious like diamonds
and seen from afar
Nurtured and fashioned
committed to pen
falling to page
to ponder and then
when story is told
and deed it is done
the poet can rest
from the words he has spun

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Simple pleasures

Writing in my little book
really brings me pleasure
just crafting lines of poetry
to hold and yes, to treasure
I just can’t stop myself I find
I simply have to write
be that in the daytime
or late into the night

As when the words are out there
the poet has no choice
but to sit and write and capture them
so others can rejoice

For when the reader sits there
and sees in their mind’s eye
the place the words they came from
and smiles and breathes a sigh
that magic is repeated
time and time again
with lines re-read, repeated
in a poem’s sweet refrain

And if as me a poet
can, when writing takes a hold
capture just a part of that
it’s as precious as pure gold

For though stopping isn’t possible
it’s really nice to know
that pleasure is repeated
from my words when in full flow
So I’ll take that simple pleasure
as I really like to give
pouring out the joy that comes
from words that simply live

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Hot III

I thought I’d write a poem
but my pen was really hot
I’d left it out in sunshine
so the poem it was not
At least for just a while
til the pen it had cooled down
then I could write the words
on this page without a frown

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Never Contrite

The problem with writing
So far in advance
Is the tine to catch up
Or not with a chance

And the capture of moments
Which by the time that they see
The cold light of day
Is a vague memory

But it’s a very small problem
To have so I’ll cope
And keep publishing them here
Knowing well that you’ll cope

As to you they are fresh
And as I hope quite inspiring
A snapshot of life
From someone not retiring

Someone who as me
Will continue to write
Albeit in advance
And never contrite

©Jemverse

Photo – Jem of Jemverse doing what he does

Lockdown writing III

Late into the night
when sleep does not come
my mind wanders freely
until it is done
Gives me the words
that I pluck from the air
and fashion to paper
with rhythm and flair

For you can take freedom
and prevent me from seeing
but you can’t take the substance
that’s part of my being
So I’ll use this abandon
and give it some form
as the gift of the poet
here pending the norm

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics