A 'Moleskine' 'Smart', quite amazing I write with my pen in my book then go to the App on my i-phone to get a new digital look On the App I can edit the written then email it straight to my Mac where it's ready to publish on Jemverse keeping me ever safely on track
Six hours before sunrise I sit with my pen writing words on my paper of here, now and then and the clock on the mantle is the only sound to enter the silence herein around
Cathartic these times, I own them and hold close to my heart as a warmth from the cold For night time has none of that here over me And it's only the beauty of writing I see
The words on my paper take substance and form as the hands on the clock tick closer to morn And I read them as writer and know they are fine for they come from the heart and are wholly mine
By and by I will stop and slumber will come sleep coming swiftly til night time is done But my words provide testament and will remain Until come the morrow I am here once again
In night time's moment of stillness and quiet
with just the tick of the clock
the scratch of a pen for a poet's demeanour
is never something to mock
For here are words of substance and beauty
captured in silence for you
the reader to realise and hold to the heart
for every one of them's true
In these still, quiet night time hours
when all I need is sleep, and yet
my mind is swirling, denying me
of the one thing I crave and need
I wish I could articulate, find the words
but they escape, elude me this time.
I am a man of words but a cruel silence
is all I have in these scary times
And I am small and frail and frightened.
It seems I can write and make people smile
Even bring a few tears every once in a while
Evidenced by when a short time ago
I had cause to recite one I'd written you know
And the things good folk said and repeated again
after I'd finished with every refrain
brought tears to my eyes, I can tell you right there
Quite lovely to hear when your heart you have shared
So as it seems I can write I will do so some more
As that's what I am and what my life is for
Been thinking about what I'd say if when faced
with a dilemma of consequence when
words and a rhyme ever failed to appear
when I sat down to write with my pen
But I really don't think I have anything here
to concern myself with as my paper
with life's cornucopia of things left to say
has not failed to reveal a new caper
And even, as here, when there's no subject matter
per se - just some words strung together
there's purpose and vision and something to say
about writing and writers - whatever
So as poet to reader here's promise today
you will never be left here without
For I can't stop writing my life here in words
so I'm here to stay, have no doubt
I'm hunting for something, first lines I wrote
fifty plus years ago now
Know I wrote them down
But with trace of a frown
whereabouts has eluded somehow
I know the first line - 'Just after dawn'
I was just thirteen at the time
But the poet within
with no trace of chagrin
knew then that the words were sublime
Yet the problem I face here in senior years
now my memory's not what it was
is locating the book
so I can again look
on those words I wrote then now because
Someone's suggested we all post first lines
the first poem ever we wrote
And I would if I could
as I know that I should
And I will (when I find them), take note
Nothing like a pencil
for writing a new line
The scratch upon the paper
the leaded point so fine
Cathartic too, the sharpening
with sharpener or knife
such is the simple pleasure
a new pencil brings to life
Outside my window, early hours
moonlight bright as day
there beneath a darkened sky
had something to say
So intently there I listened
to the words that softly came
kissed with moonbeam presence
akin to aspartame
And as soon as I had heard them
with my pen poised ready there
committed them to paper
so with you I could now share
Jemverse my persona, poet
ever asked if well I know it
and yes I do, for good for worse
as daily I commit to verse
Pen in hand, words to paper
life is captured, every caper
Stanzas formed and metre found
from all the life that is around
Rhyme and rhythm, all this me
in Jemverse here for poetry
...all about me and my life in words. I write most days, carrying an ideas book around in which I capture a word snapshot of life around me. So there's a lot here about Sussex and the sea and anything else I see that inspires.
The pictures are mine too. Some taken to match a poem; some poems written to match a pic; others chosen because they work well with words written.
Jemverse is life in words. Hope you enjoy the reading as much as I enjoy the writing...