In Chelsea

Cornucopic feasts for the senses

Brain on fire

High Line High of Holies

Hammering Sounds of Industrial

Revolutions

Amidst nature’s whispers.

____

Neurons releasing

Odes of joyous

Neurotransmitters

Singing anthems of praise

To the gods for this lovely day

In Chelsea.

Handcrafted poems by John M. Hines, June, 2016

I wrote this poem last week while slowly walking the High Line in New York City’s Chelsea area.  I was taken aback by the art around me created by both humankind and nature in a setting of industrialization.  While my wife captured the surrounding stimulations on her camera, I slipped into the shade in joyous contemplation to try to put the emotions of the place into words.

 

 

Colin’s Visit

Grey kitten resting, breathing, purring,

Grey paint on walls

Embracing mournful souls

With offerings of sweet solace,

Rainfall falling almost endlessly

Emptying the boundless night sky of moisture.

____

Sound of raindrops’ rooftop landing

After being wind thrown through

Her ancient oaks,

Gutters sagging, overwhelmed and overflowing,

Sleepy human souls slowly drifting off in dreams.

____

Moments later:

Sun now rising,

Offering its golden prescient glow,

Just as fire’s warm embers waning,

Grey days for them, Alas,

No more…?…

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 6/7/2016

I wrote this poem on my iPhone on Tuesday evening this week while we sat in our living room as TS Colin made its force felt.  Thank you for reading  :).

O’ Sweet Muse

O’ Sweet Muse,

Sweet soul whisperer,

Whisper your sweet words to me;

I promise that today I’ll listen soulfully sweet.

___

“Pierian winds blow over me,

Blow through me your delightful inspiration,

So much irresistibly sweeter than the powderiest olykoek,

Visit my soul for a while, please stay,” I pray.

___

To make sweet songs

That make all the daily crap feel tickety-boo–

My British ancestry making words like that okay,

More than fun and okay with me.

___

O’ sweet muse,

Pardon me as I escape beneath my urbanized baptismal font,

Escaping the vapours of this June humidity felt through body and soul,

Finding sweet relief in this downtown Y’s natatorium.

___

Sinking to the bottom of the deep end,

Exhaling all the hot air still trapped inside my lungs,

Finding breathless solace beneath the water’s weight,

Washing away the anxiety and guilt of not being.

___

Guilty of not being something more than a mugwump,

A mugwump wandering on the Island of Indecision

Allowing life to pass while waiting for some spiritual sweet,

Some sort of doughty awakening of blissfulness of flow of work.

___

Of labour, love of labour,

“Love’s Labour’s Lost” as the great Poet once wrote,

A metanoia bringing sweet soulfulness

To living each day one poetic moment at a time.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 06/05/2016

This is another poem in a series of poems I’ve been writing that incorporate 7 consecutive http://www.dictionary.com words of the day.  See if you can find them! Thank you for reading! 🙂