Sirens of Predawn

Having once again been inveigled

By the sirens of the predawn hours

He was awake now listening

To the peripatetic wanderings of the ghosts

They said frequented this house.


The stair steps creaking, the walls seemingly speaking,

Or was it just his cat?


Quietude, solemnity, A sphinxlike soliloquy

Of solicitous voices of solitude called out

To his soul to create a reifying remix

Of the events of past lives lived

In words scripted on soft papyrus.


Is it an epic poem, a sweet short story, a thespian’s delight

Or powerful prose that is in the offing?


Having shaken off the hebetude of days

Worked in unvocationed labor

Hazy days soaked in Bacchanalian feats of wonder

His mind now sat in the Director’s Chair

Like a well practiced cineaste.


Unable to sleep because of the promise of another weekend

Affording time to create, to live, to breathe again?


Feeling his chest rise with hope and possibility-

Spending his spare time with favorite pen and book in hand

Working to listen closely to the voices of the likenesses of

Woolf, Bukowski, Eliot and Hemingway

With his cat pressed cozily against his side.


Was this new soul seeking, spirit searching restlessness of expressiveness

A bellwether of things to come?

Handcrafted poetry by John Hines, 01/15/2016

I teach AP Psychology, the equivalent of Introduction to Psychology in the U.S., to high school students.  At the beginning of each day’s lesson I introduce the word of the day (I love the app!) to my students using it in a sentence and sometimes including some improvisation.  Last week, I challenged myself to write a poem using the 7 previous words of the day (  I answered that challenge again this week.  One key to this is that I “live” with these words all week. In fact, I wrote a poem earlier in the week titled The Offing ( Thank you for reading!  Have a most awesome weekend doing your own creating!

3 thoughts on “Sirens of Predawn”

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