Tag Archives: Writing

Should I taint the untainted page?

Purest of pages

is the blank page;

throughout the ages

it has come of age

and been defiled

by clumsy stroke

or inept word;

and likened to the joke

where silence is heard?

Sunday’s write

I went to write something for Sunday,

but, as Sunday never writes anything for me…


Then I read some other people’s poetry and stories – which I should do more often – and their words were good, great, wondrous!


Then I added a bit to a short story that may get even longer – if it finds out where it is that it is going.


Then I wrote, am writing, this.


Hot off of the press, but nothing to write home about.


Well, it makes a change from my quirky poems, don’t you think?


I shall get back to QPs later – probably.


As to the weather – it is very cold here, but probably colder elsewhere, so it’s just a comment and not a complaint.


Where ever you are – take care and stay safe.


I care for your well-being.



A poem that I called ‘Poem’

Even before the poem was born

it had a provisional name –

whether it was a boy or a girl poem,

simple or gifted, wild or tame.

It was to be called ‘Poem’ –

nothing but the best for my newest birthing.


Anyway, Poem was born,

from my soul was torn,

arriving, screaming silently,

into the void.


Will Poem grow to be a leader of tribes,

a favourite of scribes,

or just a series of words

vaguely affirming the sanctity of birds.


We wait and see;

what will be…



Are you still writing and reading on a day like today?

It might be the only day of the year

when writing might not be writ,

or books not be read;

but I did some reading at four o’clock

all snuggled up in bed.

And writing has a moment,

when it just must be done,

and this is the very moment,

because writing is such fun.


However, if, today,

you do not write,

or read a word at all,

I’ll still wish you a merry festive time

as I pop on down another rhyme,

and listen to literature’s call.

I don the writer’s garb

I don the writer’s garb

(get dressed)

and scribe my words

(write things)

be they sad or droll

(random things)

until the muse flys off

(until my head hurts).

Always on my phone

I’m always on my phone,

in the writing and poetry zone;

it’s good to be alone

with your thoughts.

Writing and Reading (at this moment in time)

At this moment in time,

I have posted upon WordPress

for one hundred and twenty-one

days in a row.

I have also read from my Kindle

for the past twenty-six days

(I miss a day, occasionally)

but, I have also read from my Kindle

for the past sixty-four weeks

(I miss a week ‘very’ occasionally).


I might have to thank a long list of authors,

and be thankful to a huge number of inspirational moments for the above,

but this is no place for speeches,

or peaches, as each is

inevitably, or invariably,

too long, under, or over ripe,

and very rarely at the correct

length, or ripeness for public proclamation.

As you can see from the above, writing is a thing.

Make of that what you will.

Predictable text

You know what I’m going to write,

even before I’ve writ it;

you’ve seen it all,

you know the path

my words will always take –

because I use predictable text,

and you know what comes next,

as originality I forsake.

It has come to my attention…

I thought that AIW would mention


It has come to my attention,


when I sit down

to try and write a poem,

I end up writing one like this one.

This also happens

when I stand up

to try and write a poem.

Maybe I shouldn’t sit down

or stand up

or write poetry.

Has this sort of thing

come to your attention?

Asking for an imaginary friend –

which, as a poet,

I do have.

Words on a Page

I put

words upon a page;

it’s something I’ve done

for an age.

They might not be the best,

as good as the rest,

but, in them

my time

I invest.