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Where Are the Poets?

Where are the poets when you need them?

Where are the wordsmiths that cry out 

across the space-time continuum

from the future

to the present

in the market square

in the town halls

outside places of worship

in the middle of the street?

What will they say of the earth as it stands right now?

Will they weep with us?

Bury our dead with us?

Lift us up with their words?

Using the word of God to…

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Choosing Them Wisely

The times….. when a mind is ground to powder when tears spring when even the sky cries and the rivers rise When…… time has no meaning and words have lost theirs

It is then…… that we realise that a word can be as gentle as a soft feather or as cutting as sword

Words- turned inward eviscerate or mollify ensnare or liberate

Words – turned outward build or burn (bridges) destroy or repair (the world)

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Perfectly Flawed It’s not everyday I see the self portrait of my soul with its uneven contours and discoloured…

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Without Words

Were they not words that created the world? But for words, our world would be as silent as the grave and darkness would still hover over the deep where the nights are not dark enough How would the vision be written for others to run with it? How would we be able to break or build cajole or deter bless or curse?

Thoughts and dreams prayers and anguish -all would be powerless without words and only…

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Find Yourself

This is a style of poetry after the poet, Wendy Cope from  ‘The Uncertainty of the Poet’. It was strange to do, but interesting.

  Only when you find yourself 

 do you begin to grow

Only when you grow

do you begin to find yourself

Only find grow- do you?

when you begin?

Grow yourself- find only

when you begin to do you

© Vivian Zems

Real Toads

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Her Way Nerve- muscle- bone and sinew bow in submission Even her shadow keeps a respectful distance as they watch her ink…

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Winter Games

Laughter and snuggles Under warm blankets we dive -playing hide and seek skin to skin cheek to cheek kisses for warmth  The scent of your skin is the only tongue  I care to speak

(more…)

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Insanity

Clouds without rain

the unmet eye

quicksand underfoot

a wallet that leaks

a dawn delayed

and a cement sky

…..these things can drive a (wo)man insane

©Vivian Zems

Poetry Form: Sevenling

Real Toads

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