“Hey! Where are the Poems, Dude?”
I know,
there seems to be a non-glut
of my poetry lately;
but, it’s there for a reason –
‘tis the season to be jolly,
prancing around with a sprig of holly,
loitering under the mistletoe,
wrapping last-minute presence of mind,
with recycled tarpaulins.
Actually, I don’t know why
the Poetry Well seems to be dry,
perhaps I filled too many buckets,
and now there is a need to replenish the source-code (mental note ‘Ode to a Source-Code’ –
and then rejoin my journey
upon the Geode less unravelled.
“Excuse me? Does any of this make sense?”
No, not really – it’s just one of those
stream-of-consciousness writes
I suppose.
Anyway, my New Yurt’s resolution
might be to relight the poetry 🔥
and give you what you most desire …
a decent poem from me.
Well, maybe not quite your
most desirous thing –
but, who knows
what the future will bring?
Graeme Sandford 
Who, indeed, knows what the future may bring …
Hurry on Sundown!
But we do know that if we don’t write, we wither and watch the words disperse, taking a piece of our inner selves with them into the compost of the soul.
‘The Compost of the Soul’ indeed that is a terrifying image and thought. Managed a poem today – some days are poemless – and those are a little bit sad kind of days.
Hope you are well in this (festive!?) season. May your soul be composed of all the best ingredients.
Grae:)
And to you I gift many words, whether they make full sense yet, or are as a child awaiting a gift of voice.