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! 🙂

Zoogenic Tendencies

So what if these poems never meet the standards

To bear a colophon,

Colophonic complaisance was never his intention.

Whether writing odes to his Dulcinea

Or energized by the jimjams that were his

Maternal genetic blessing.

___

In writing he found the cure for shaking away the gormlessness

Of his work-a-day world,

Often awakening from hypnagogic restlessness

That refused to yield to deeper sleep

To write these words,

Slowly stripping away the hard-caked fard covering up his Soul.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 05/29/2016

This weekend, I felt like it was time to pick up the 7 word www.dictionary.com word-of-the-day poetry challenge I initiated a few months back and hadn’t approached for a while.  This week’s words from www.dictionary.com were colophon, complaisant, dulcinea, jimjams, gormless, hypnagogic, zoogenic, and hard.  (Yeah, after writing this poem, I discovered an eighth word had snuck into the mix).  Looking at these seemingly unrelated words and their definitions in my notebook proved to be too much of an unyielding temptation so I started writing these verses down before my wife and I went out on Friday night and came up with this little poem. Thank you for reading!  🙂

Push pause. Repeat.

I heard, I felt

Breath of wind blowing over breath of Soul

Soul’s breath felt,

Soul’s voice heard

In a concert of trees.

____

Rustling leaves whispering

Soul secrets,

Soul’s reward for

Slowing down to listen.

Push pause. Repeat.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 05/27/2016

Night Music

Blue sky at sunset filtered through city’s

Amber haze

As cicada usher in the coming darkness

With their night music

____

Blue sky and silhouette of trees reflected

In pool’s watery depths

Another day’s potentialities melting into

The promises offered in dreams.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 05/27/2016

Young Poet

Young Poet, here you go, he said

As he handed me Leaves of Grass

Its greenish-golden hues

And picture of Walt himself

Inviting entry into a world unknown.

It’s everything you need contained

Between these pages

To be

The writer you’ve not yet known.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 04/23/2016

Another One of Those Days

There are days when the only acceptable noise

Once wrapped in the soothing chocolate brown walls of my study

Is the whir of the ceiling fan mixed with the purr of sweet Kitty.

____

Anything else cuts through the silence my soul is seeking

Like fingernails across a chalkboard,

And today is one of those days.

____

Trying to sift through the anger, frustration

I’ve been feeling lately most days as I walk out to my truck through the parking lot

To drive home after work.

____

Second week in May, four weeks ‘til summer,

Up today since 3:44 like every day,

A predawn 5 mile run in the books before driving to work.

____

And now, all I crave is silence and solitude

To hear the voice of the author I’m currently reading

Speaking to that deeper place of soul.

____

‘Cause you see, those words are medicinal

And I know I only have about two hours, maybe three of lucidity

Before the tiredness pulls the back of my eyes into my occipital lobe.

____

But, for right now that fan whirring, that Kitty purring

Are the only sounds my soul desires,

All others cursed like anathema.

____

These are the sounds of solitude, the sounds of silence

Wrapped in the textures of these chocolate brown walls,

That girl breathing gently beside me on the futon.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 05/10/2016