Poet’s Block...
Sometimes I find that no words will come to me, and trying to write lines at these times almost always ensures that anything written is not up to my liking or standard.
The solution usually is to take break and allow experiences and holidays to refresh the store of thoughts from which the poems come.
Another good idea is to read anthologies to see what styles and techniques other poets have used; no bad thing to add to the “tools” in the armoury available.
Or... to write the poem from differing viewpoints, not solely the first person (yourself) but from others. For example:-
A love poem, with alternate verses by the two lovers.
The Life of Jesus, but as told by his sandals (see below).
One event, with differing impressions from three eyewitnesses.
Sandals speech, by “Lefty”.
It’s a tough job being the footwear for this chap!
His feet sweat alright, lots! And the dust after he’s walked miles and miles in the day, caked on like a crust of grunge and sand. His feet have worn the insoles to a shine with contact; hard skin and calluses rasping the once newly matt leather to a shine; darkened of course by oil and sweat (that again!).
Not that folks notice us, his footwear. They focus on the other end: his gentle eyes and ready smile for everyone, and his words, they really listen to them. He’s going places and we go too.
That sermon up on the mount; boy did he go on some, good stuff mind you! We had to take the full weight for about an hour or so. Our motto should be: “They also serve who bear the weight of those who stand”. I expect some clever so and so in the future, most likely will nick our motto, or adapt it. But that’s life and we do our job well in protecting and cushioning the load of walking, dancing, etc.
We got no rest after he instructed the others among His company to “take only one tunic”; after that they all, he first naturally, took to wearing one pair of sandals all the time.
Even the poorest people have another pair of sandals; just to feel that lovely cool freshness when you first slip them on. But he’s on a mission to share the “good news” as he calls it, so he and they travel light with the minimum of possessions; ready to stay or set off anytime.
Both of us are now a little battle fatigued by the roads travelled. I – “Lefty” -having a few cracks across the surface of the straps; while my companion -”Wrighty” is a wearing a little loose on the layers of the sole.
Due to the stance and walking moves of our owner, one of us is worn more heavily on the heels and front toes than the other. Are you curious to know which one – Lefty or Wrighty? Modesty and respect for Him prevent us from revealing this. We also know how he likes his feet washed; and in what order, left or right; again on this we’re keeping quiet!
We travel on, his feet pressing down, the earth and roads pressing up under us all the time; except when he’s sleeping or fording a river. Oh to feel as if we were floating up and up into the clouds, not to come down, the pressure on us finally off for good. Here’s hoping!
© Louis J. Casson 2010 All rights reserved.
The above is prose not poetry, so here’s my conversion... I only used some parts of the prose text converting to poetic language and phrasing, also adding elements of scripture and the blues. Like several of my pieces it falls somewhere between lyrics and a poem.Talking Jesus Ascension Blues.
Why you looking skywards for him?
He’s gone ascended, raised up from this ground.
Returning this way, the same someday,
Greeting those lost who have Him found.
”Take only one pair of sandals”:
but I was not able, in my surplus riches
this box I could not check.
His words felt like straw,
choked inside my throat,
a noose around my neck
He wore his sandals out, wading in the Jordan River,
grinding through all the dust and sweat.
Stood midday giving his sermon on the mount
but the toughest blooded glory
lay waiting for Him yet.
He’s gone ascended, raised up from this ground.
Returning this way, the same someday,
Greeting those lost who have Him found.
Taken up taken up
at that glorious reappearing,
for coming back he’ll be.
Caught up in the air to be with Him forever,
while all angels and saints sing eternally.
Cease your looking skywards for him.
He’s gone ascended, raised up from this ground.
Returning this way, the same someday,
Greeting those lost, who have Him found.
This Blues poem lyric © Louis J. Casson 2012 All rights reserved.
My 2012 Blog plans...
I’ve linked My Blogs to come just before my Post Weekend poetry items, which will appear:
017, ‘When the Great Strength Fails’, 16th April.
039, ‘First Contact’, 17th September.
056, ‘Cats passing on the trail’, 14th January 2013.
To take a look, click on the link:-
http://morgenbailey.wordpress.com/post-weekend-poetry/
Post Weekend Poetry is hosted by my fellow writer and friend Morgen Bailey; who has kindly started this page for poets, a good way of expanding your web readership.
Louis’ Digital Jukebox.
Here’s the link to my music selection for this month.
Barry Manilow, playing the tracks ‘Paradise Cafe’ & ‘Blue’:-
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vg5XqMHmgVg
That’s all for now folks, off to the Lake District soon,
http://www.edgeguide.co.uk/cumbria/whitehaven.html
till my next Blog due around10th September take care.
Best wishes, Louis J
This Blog content, Poems & Lyrics, Copyright Louis J. Casson 2012.
See more about Louis J. Casson on Behance: http://www.behance.net/LJCasson
