Creative…Or Not?

facts - morguefile

I am drowning in words of disarray
Creatively sorting through my day
Yet so much happens through eyes a-double
Am I certain I’m creative…or just in trouble?

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© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane

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Find Your Way Slowly

Exploring poetry types, I came across a list and thought it might be fun to try the different styles. So, as an exercise in creativity (!), the next few posts will be in a specific recognised style.

The following is called ‘Acrostic’. Quite simply, the first letter of each line make up the title! I picked the title at random – just popped into the vacant space in my head!

I had fun – hope you enjoy! We’ll see how creativity is affected over the coming days! 🙂

Falling deep
In lovers moat
Nearing bottom
Defying float

Yelling, screaming
Out comes naught
Under hears but
Roaring mute

Wondering now why
All is quiet
Yawning mouth, arms all riot

Searching desperately for air
Learning there is nothing there
Opening to something new
What is this light? Who knew?
Letting go, leaving weight
Spirit yearns for lighter height

 

© Copyright Robin McShane – July 2014

All rights reserved

Floods of Life

Men flew through shadows deep,
Raucous birds a-calling,
Rivers ran through fields asleep
Drowning in their falling.

Houses lost, homes all gone,
Buildings washed away,
Will we be able to survive
The rains that fell that day?

People tell of worse,
When lands were all a-flood,
So many moons ago,
Yet no-one mentions blood.

Blood of ages, blood of sin,
Blood that’s carried through,
From year to year, man to man,
Red, dark red and blue.

So light the torches, bring the flame,
Rekindle fires and lamp.
Bring on the heat, bring on the light,
And banish all the damp.

And those of us now sitting dry,
Look down upon the mess,
But for the Grace of God say you,
The death, the pain, the stress.

Begin again, take the new,
See this as favour done,
For out of ashless comfort zones,
Arises new life won.

Large of eyes, pale of face,
Looking all around,
Bewildered by this chance of fate,
Standing on new ground.

Events of life, controlled or not,
Change us deep within,
And carry portents for the rest,
“Let go of all your whims!”

Life is transient, belongings more,
As stewardship is given,
Ownership is obsolete,
As soul’s experience now driven.

This time, this place, this precious now,
To which we all belong,
Will have it’s way, give us life,
And take us all along.

© Copyright Rob McShane – March 2014