Ideas form while looking around
fueling thoughts into my Headfire
making words out of the visions found
all over the page, floods, my desire
Filling the blank space in many ways
maybe a sonnet to a loved one
or a free verse with many cliches
no matter, I'll leave nothing undone
Through poetry, my soul can now breathe
and will be cherished till I'm no more
I'll write daily to prevent its death
Restoring my soul with new vigor
Poetry feeds on what's held inside
as images and feelings coincide
7/15/2017
Inspired by:
`````You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you ~ Joseph Joubert
Categories:
joubert, life, poems, poetry, words,
Form: Sonnet
You won't find poetry anywhere
unless you bring some of it with you,
said Joseph Joubert,
a French writer whose day job
was working for Napoleon.
If Joubert was right and you have
poems marinating, then go out
and search everywhere for more.
You will find nice ones in the forest
twinkling in the eyes of a doe
or twitching in the ears of a rabbit.
Add them to your marinade and then
go into the city and you will find more
blazing in the eyes of America’s beggars.
There’s room in your marinade for more.
Donal Mahoney
Categories:
joubert, poverty,
Form: Blank verse
The sun set, the siren wailed
Furtively the Black moved, fearing to be jailed
For being without a pass after dark
In Johannesburg’s Joubert Park
A torch flashed in his face
Quickly establishing his race.
Too late to run
He was spun around
And pushed against a wall
By a big tall policeman.
Please Baas. Don’t call the van
I could be out of town quickly, if I ran.
Suddenly a push and a kick
“Run quick.”
Twenty years on
Apartheid’s gone
The policeman is now a civilian
Working in town.
The sun is setting slowly down
In a ball of crimson red.
Bringing dread
He must leave town quickly
Or he’ll be dead
With a knife in his back
Or a Kerrie on his head.
The City’s not safe after dark
For he has a Pass, printed by God
Embedded in his Page of Life
The DNA of being white.
In Joubert Park
A torch flashed in his face
Quickly establishing his race.
Too late to run
He was spun around
And pushed against the wall
By a big tall Black.
Please don’t kill me
I was the Policeman that let you go free
Suddenly a push and a kick
“Bugger off quick.”
Categories:
joubert, life, sun,
Form: Verse