A Poem on the MBS Acronym

The acronym MBS in my blog name stands for Master of Business Studies. The poem below comes up with some alternatives:

Mad - madly in love with poetry
Bad - purveyor of trashy and terribly bad poems
Safe - because on average a bad poet earns as much as a good poet i.e. $0.00

Maudlin - the feeling when that poem just won't come
Blah - the feeling when it still won't come
Serendipity - the inspiration that falls from above to solve M&B above

Muse - she that comes but not when called
Bouyant - the feeling when she does arrive
Satisfaction - the feeling about the end product.

Ciao

Grant aka drkelp

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Fragment of a Poem by Neruda

I found this fragment today in a book I am reading:

to have lived
through one solitude to arrive at another,
to feel oneself many things and recover wholeness.

Pablo Neruda

This describes my life and poetic experience. As all poets know the craft is one of solitude but the end result, the poem, can encapsulate the many things becoming one.

Happy writing and reading in 2012

Grant aka drkelp



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Night Time Stealth Poetry

Why is night the time
To vent my spleen
Upon the page?

At night
The stillness creeps
entering
into my consciousness
like a stealthy cat,

Maybe the day is far to real
To allow me
To wander, explore and
Inhabit the place
That lies
Between my mind
and heart.

The place called the
Night Time Stealth and Poetry,
Arcade.

DK


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2012???

Another year
2012
What will it bring?
Poetic inspiration?
or dryness of soul.

Still every day is new
Every year is new
Every poem is new
I am new
because poetry
breathes life

into the poet and reader alike


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Back in Aotearoa

Back in the Antipodes
The land of the Long White Cloud
Aotearoa
New Zealand

Beaches, Barbecues
and Jandals
Awaiting the
Long Hot Summer



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The Naming of the Poem

The name comes last you know
You have to write the poem
before you call it
anything

Its like a baby
fresh from the womb
Whose name follows the placenta
self evidently

God knows
what this ones called?

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Today I Ate a Woolf

Today I ate a Woolf
Not a Common Woolf
or even a Common Reader Woolf

Instead it was a Diary Woolf
Volume Four, 1931
and it slipped down a treat

Like a well aged Wine
Aged Woolf
Tastes mighty fine.


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