My MoJo

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My MoJo

Please let me have my mojo back,
My passion has abated;
Now faded into lustless life,
All rapture now vacated.

This fractious war’s collateral damage
Has snagged me in its thorns,
And leaving me dispirited,
Has taken other forms.

For all the hurt I now repress
The damage leaves its mark.
What will it take to bring it back
That vital vibrant spark?

 

The Creative Spark

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The Creative Spark

 

A single spark began my tale
From an instant of repose. 
The throb of creation stirred within
And burgeoning life arose. 

The candle spluttered into life
As the flame that lit it died. 
It gathered strength and grew apace, 
Its feathered flame untied. 

Flickering gently in still air
Until it caught the breeze, 
Its flame intensified and grew, 
Spreading itself with ease. 

Dispelling gloom, its wholesome light, 
The dark intent to smother. 
The reflected child of one bright spark
And parent of another. 

I thought how works the simile 
To pass its blood line on?
One flame still burning strong and bright,
The other dead and gone. 

Never quite to be extinguished
Parent and child enriched.
The spark that gave my poem life
Gone now but still exists.

 

 

 

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’