I AM NOT MOSES

Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones … Singing Angels (‘Honesty’) Tapestry 1898 (detail)

Do I just pretend to be open
am I a charlatan at heart
how sincere 
how honest 
when push 
comes to shove 
when the chips are down 
what remains
that is true to my intent

Have I forsaken my promise 
my desire to be me
openly faithful 
truly chaste 
a compassionate soul
struggling for honesty
and resolved to lead
into the Promised Land

My poems are 
imagination’s creatures
but still
slave to whim 
to make-believe 
and the pre-determined end
does this condemn me to 
reach a bargain
to fudge the truth

If so then
has that truth 
become another lie 
or does it just allow me
a latitude
a breadth of narrative 
which covers up 
the shallowness of my intent

I compromise surely
make accommodations to reality
inhibited by
thoughts of entitlement 
feelings of worth
desire to please 
to purchase credibility
a mercenary versifier
forever regretting
that this facade 
must be negotiated
with my better judgement
not wanting to hurt 
protecting decorum and 
further weakening honesty 
effectively
dissolving the truth

And yet 
rather this 
than face the rejection 
that surely would follow 
as always 
the truth that 
no – I am no wunderkind
not tomorrow’s success
nor Destiny’s child
just waiting
to be found

Moses Discovered In The Bulrush  

Weaving Words

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Weaving Words

 

(The Poet’s Calling)

 

I wander my world 
weaving words into verse
plaiting my thoughts 
into silken skeins of sense
rendering images
from my mind’s eye
to this digital paper
perverse perception
lending life to poetry
lust to hope 
and love to mon amour
the written word. 

Only in time
with wish fulfilment
perchance my dreams
will meet my expectations 
and produce that meisterwerk
whose impetus
drives me on

 

Impromptu

Calliope-The Muse Of Epic Poetry

The Creative Process

 

I sit here
Awaiting inspiration
Defeating anxiety
By not being anxious
Just as I defeat boredom
By acting oddly.
Poking my poised pen
Up my right nostril
Right side
– That’s my creative side –
Then
Humming ‘Ipsy Wipsy Spider’
To the tune of
‘Auld Lang Syne’.

Not that the procedure
Often produces a product
Concocts a concoction
Elicits the missing ending of
Kubla Khan
Finishes Schubert’s
Symphony No.8
Or Tolkien’s Tales Of Middle-earth

No. Definitely no!
Although
It has been known
To flick a switch
Ignite a spark
Connect two thoughts
To result in a third
of admirable content
Contenting Calliope,
Who, having prompted
My spirit of the moment,
Considers her job done
And promptly leaves.

Thus I return
To that stale and stagnant state
In which
I sit here
Awaiting further inspiration

That epiphany
That ever-absent
Eureka moment
In which
I compose my own
‘Paradise Regained’