This weeks New Poem:Are You Afraid Of The Dark?

Here is my latest piece of writing, another poem. This time a sombre piece, written again to a creative writing prompt from a random pass on the web sites offering these. 

A strange one for me, I started without any idea of where the subject would take me as I often do when using a prompt. And in this case I actually started the poem (the first verse and a half) by using a poetry generator. I use the strategy to give me a first line or two but never take what is offered without some heavy editing.

The prompt I used was "Are You Afraid Of The Dark?" As an adult, I am not but what would make me feel this way? Perhaps a dream .... a nightmare? Or did something happen on a camping trip as a child? Maybe You could make your own mind up?

OK, here it is...

sourced from Pixabay (creative commons)

Are You Afraid Of The Dark?

Once upon a midnight sombre,

Through which came tapping, tapping, tapping.

In there stepped a haunting downbeat,

Still is rapping, still is rapping.

I felt compelled to scour the setting

I awoke with such a start.

Ah, distinctly I was strumming,

"Take thy woe from out my heart".

At that my soul knew fear.

The thunderclouds spoke of death.

Whilst in the earth I saw a grave,

My body failed to draw a breath.

I heard a maniacal, muted moaning;

A solemn, sepulchral shrieking.

I believed my time was over

As I heard my spirit weeping

I had never been so frightened,

Never dreaming of these shadows;

And the creatures I imagined

From long forgotten barrows.

But just before I drew my last breath

A light appeared in the eastern sky. 

The coming dawn rode to my rescue

The demons dissolved before my eye.

Years later grown into adulthood,

Still remembering that fright;

When asked why I am afraid of the dark,

I confess the happenings that night.

Thanks for reading, I have actually collected enough poems for a fourth poetry book ( well perhaps a pamphlet would be a better description) but it will be available on Amazon sometime soon if things go well.

New Poem, A Connection To The Past

Wow, they say not to apologise for long breaks in posting but this has to be a record. I had not been finding time for writing for a long time due to personal issues. However, A new weekly writing prompt on an old friends, new web site caught my eye. Monna has for a long time been working to bring new creative writers together and to offer encouragement. This new site has a regular writing prompt to help get you started and I decided to "have a go".

This was the result, of the prompt, (an inscription in an old book":-

A Connection to the Past

I am holding in my hands a battered, tattered book

I saw it on the bookshelf and just had to take a look.

The cover stained, page edges foxed

A history waiting to be unboxed,

For me, the pages of a volume such as this

Will always speak so loud and lead to an abyss

Where I become as one with the narrative within

And lose myself to some adventure waiting to begin.

And then I think of others who have held this work before

Having found its heroines and heros on some far, far, foreign shore

Did they read it to forget some dismal, dreary task

Or maybe, like me, it was simply to be enjoyed – why ask?

For reading is a pleasure, an indulgence to revere;

A diversion from whatever life brings, a new frontier.

But the greatest pleasure an old book can bring at last

Is to find a pale inscription, a connection to the past.

Basically I was at a loose end for an hour or so and wanted to try this. It is a first draft, almost straight from the pen (well the keyboard anyway) although I did google a couple of synonyms to help. Actually I quite like it and may find myself doing more in which case this blog could well be resurrected. I would like that.

A New Poem - Faded Flowers

At last I have something I can feel good about. I was writing my last post, a piece about my surname and its origin at the dining room table, and from time to time glanced up at a vase of flowers in front of me. A busy weekend meant that it had not been thrown out although some of the more delicate blooms were past their best.

before I had finished, I had a few words swirling around my head and decided that it would be worth spending a little time putting a few ideas down on paper (well on my laptop screen anyway) and perhaps keep it for future use. The next day I came across it again, and settled down to write this poem. I changed a few lines and very quickly the whole nature of the piece changed, and this poem started to come together.

I know that all the books and articles talk about editing and putting things away for awhile and re-editing but I have always been quite impatient with writing poems and lyrics. Maybe that's why I always feel that I should make changes everytime I read my older work. But Where does the process stop?

Anyway, here is the full poem as it stands:

Faded Flowers by John Dyhouse

A vase of dying flowers,

Sits on the windowsill.

Sadly waiting, bleached, forlorn

Now simply treated with such scorn

A faded memory.

I know the scent, that emanates

From across the silent room.

A cross between mown grass, and decay

At the ending of another day

A wasted memory.

A present once accepted

A gift with love and care;

But now they sit, neglected

Forgotten and rejected.

Redundant memory.

Sign of a soured relationship.

A metaphor perceived,

A troubled life, a rift

Don't let the feelings drift

Don't waste that memory.

The flowers now cannot be saved

Too late, just throw them out.

But carefully consider how

Think about your life right now,

Is it right to disavow;

retain that memory

A New Collection of Poetry (Free Download)

Some of you may have seen the free e-book at Scribd which I blogged about on this site and which contains an embedded copy of the Scribd book.

This contained a number of early lyrics, edited to pass as poetry. I have now taken poems written since then and created a second collection which I have called, "Poetry From A New Beginning". The reasoning behind the title is explained in the e-book itself, so I will not re-iterate it here. It is also available on Scribd as a free download, and again I am posting an embedded version of this e-book in this post here on the blog.

Read it here, or go to Scribd to download it, it is your choice. The difference in style seems obvious to me. Not least is the widening of the subject matter. I would love to hear what you think of the poetry. It has become very important to me but I am struggling to write as much as I would like. Here is the e-book:-

Poetry From A New Beginning by John Dyhouse

New poems, The Thursday Bus and A Water Fountain

I am posting new poems here (of course) and also on Squidoo, A poem every day explains the project and why I started it but also has a few new poems which are not to be found on this blog. THis is because of the need to minimise the same text on different sites which Google does not like.

There are two new poems in this post, the first is another which came about because of a dearth of ideas -however I think it has actually come out very well. This was one where I wrote out the structure (the main ideas) without considering the poetry. The editing later brought the poetry into existence. This is not my usual way of working and happened because I wrote it walking from the bus stp to my home, a walk of about 20 minutes. I would never have remembered the ideas if I had not noted them down in my handy notebook. It has been through several edits so far and may under go more, but here it is as it exists at the moment.


THE THURSDAY BUS

Every Thursday without fail
I catch a bus at eight;
Unless the bus is not on time
And then I have to wait

When I board the Thursday Bus
I always see this man;
Born in the Caribbean,
He’s far older than I am.

We nod and greet each other
Because we share the bus,
And for a few short minutes
Are friends, the two of us.

The differences are obvious
Nationality and years,
But one more differential,
A belief in god he wears.

I’ve never understood the need
Although sometimes I’ve tried
To believe in something greater,
 A supernatural guide.

He sees his Lord in everything
So should I envy him?
For old and poor, or so it seems,
He wears such pride within.

In the little time I see him
He seems to be fulfilled.
A wonderful achievement
To be so strongly-willed.

The Thursday Bus soon stops for me
I leave him on his own.
His journey takes him far away
On the Thursday Bus alone.
As the poem says, Returning home from work on a Thursday, I have to catch a bus and I always meet this old, West Indian gentleman. We make small talk to pass the time and he often brings Jesus into the conversation. I only travel a few stops before alighting and leaving him to travel on.

The second poem  was inspired by a photograph I took whilst on a weekend trip to Yeovil, Somerset. Seen at Lytes – Cary Manor. Somehow the poem doesn’t seem to be finished, I may yet come back to it complete the piece.

On Seeing A Water Fountain
Water bubbling from an urn
Falling in an arc returns
To the pool from whence it came.

Splashing on it’s joyful way
Wets the statue in it’s way
Singing as it finds its home.

Such a peaceful, calming sound
Glad am I to be around
That fountain calling to me.

Water pumped from holding pool
Sprays the air and makes it cool
Offering tranquillity.

The days at peace, so am I
Watching water from so high
Cascade tinkling down again.

From that urn held up so tight
Stony grip maintains the height
Water falls like silv’ry rain
Playful in it’s merry game.

Addendum: I have decided that the third line in the three line verses, should be two syllables longer. Just found that this helped to make the whole poem flow better. I will be editing and reposting in my next post. Simply shows my writing procedure, if it doesn't work then alter it.

New Poems: The Artist's Role & Buddist Chant

Back in quickly to post two more of my daily poems. Not sure that I would rate any of these as world beaters but it is beginning to be easier to start writing on different subjects. Today, I focus on artists and buddhists. Also I am developing a process or/and a routine which I am sure will benefit me in the days (months ?) to come. I would love to know what you think of them, and look forward to any criticsm in your comments.

The images are often of the subject of the poem but the monk was selected rather than the cover of the CD I was listening to at the time.

26^th June

 The Artist’s Rôle 

 

Abstract abstraction

Collage perfection,

From imperfect parts

To a meaningful whole.

Textures contrasting

Directional casting,

Calm and contentment

The artists true goal.

A skilful creation

By well practiced action.

A bold affirmation

Of the artist’s proud ole

A colourful flourish

But never too garish.

Artistic appraisal?

It’s food for the soul.

 This is one of two pictures hanging on a hotel wall by the same artist. I enjoy creating collages and rather liked these works. What better way of celebrating them than to write my next poem on the subject of art.

 I found this more difficult to write because I had actually chosen a subject this time. Lots of editing and rewriting but eventually arriving at something I can live with.

In trying to find a rhyme with “whole” in the first verse, I actually found lots of possibilities and decided to make this a feature of the poem. I used a rhyme on the last line of each verse. A different rhyming form for me but one I think works quite well.

27^th June

A Better Life

Shining sounds

Of people singing

Clashing gongs

And bells a-ringing.

Imagining

Some far off temple

Mystic views

A world of fable.

Holy monks

Will chant and raise 

Voices aloud

In simple praise,

To their God

Whose all forgiving

Goodness

Will reward them all.

Alternative last line for this poem:-

“Their reward will bring”

The song came to mind whilst driving back from a short break; my wife had put on a CD of Buddhist Chants and this set off a few thoughts which I completed after the journey.

I will be saying more about my process in the very near future, although I may well be writing a Squidoo lens (=article). I will be posting  the  link on here though.