(Bud — thanks for the opportunity to be inspired every day with the pictures and prompts. I’ll see you soon in Denver … Kevin)
The Path into Poems
The path here has become overgrown –
not with detritus and debris –
but with imagination and memories
which gently brush across my face as I walk it.
My pockets overflow with words and images and the sound
of my voice pushing back the limbs
in an effort to unveil some small thumbnail
of insight
as I travel along this trail left by others
yet seemingly created just for me.
Thirty days have rushed past and if one were to say
that a poem a day is just too much to even consider,
I might reply that poems are food to nourish the soul
and how could you not go thirty days
without a poem falling from your mind
into your outstretched hands?
Everyone slips into poetry in those moments
before sleep overtakes you and the stories of the day
fill your mind with the rhythm of the hours,
but only some of us put the reflective points down with pen
and ink and think of it as poetry;
Most of us just live it and forget it
and refuse to believe that poetry exists.
Here, on this path that has led me into the deep thickets
and out into the open plains,
and everywhere in-between,
I kick at the stones,
pausing to consider the world buried beneath,
slowing down the fast rush of the day
in order to breathe in a single, silent moment
so I can wonder what words will capture my thoughts
today.
Thanks for the inspirational prompts. It has been fun to watch the month unfold.
Up the hill and around the corner….
Life is like this path set before you,
You do not know what a waits
For you,
Up the hill and around the corner..
You do not know what fate
Has in store for you
Up the hill and around the corner….
Is it full of wonder or sorrow,
You need a little hope and
a little faith to go,
Up the hill and around the corner.
(Bud — thanks for the opportunity to be inspired every day with the pictures and prompts. I’ll see you soon in Denver … Kevin)
The Path into Poems
The path here has become overgrown –
not with detritus and debris –
but with imagination and memories
which gently brush across my face as I walk it.
My pockets overflow with words and images and the sound
of my voice pushing back the limbs
in an effort to unveil some small thumbnail
of insight
as I travel along this trail left by others
yet seemingly created just for me.
Thirty days have rushed past and if one were to say
that a poem a day is just too much to even consider,
I might reply that poems are food to nourish the soul
and how could you not go thirty days
without a poem falling from your mind
into your outstretched hands?
Everyone slips into poetry in those moments
before sleep overtakes you and the stories of the day
fill your mind with the rhythm of the hours,
but only some of us put the reflective points down with pen
and ink and think of it as poetry;
Most of us just live it and forget it
and refuse to believe that poetry exists.
Here, on this path that has led me into the deep thickets
and out into the open plains,
and everywhere in-between,
I kick at the stones,
pausing to consider the world buried beneath,
slowing down the fast rush of the day
in order to breathe in a single, silent moment
so I can wonder what words will capture my thoughts
today.
Listen to the poem: http://www.box.net/shared/static/ti15h68tj9.mp3
Kevin Hodgsons last blog post..Free Comics for you!
From a house with many windows
High up on Nowhere Street
We see a worldly picture:
Seasons mark the beat.
Shapes go by at dawn,
Calling fills their day;
Shapes go by at evening,
Last light folds away.
We see the picture change:
Climate marks the beat.
Chrome peels from the trim
On cars that line the street.
From a house with many windows
We watch the skyline grow:
Builders put up buildings
Row on row.
Sky becomes much smaller,
Builders mark the beat.
Chrome peels from the trim
On cars that line the street.
Shapes go by at dawn,
Calling fills their day;
Shapes go by at evening,
Last light folds away.
Ken Allans last blog post..A Giant Programmable Computer
Thanks for the inspirational prompts. It has been fun to watch the month unfold.
Up the hill and around the corner….
Life is like this path set before you,
You do not know what a waits
For you,
Up the hill and around the corner..
You do not know what fate
Has in store for you
Up the hill and around the corner….
Is it full of wonder or sorrow,
You need a little hope and
a little faith to go,
Up the hill and around the corner.