holy writer’s block, batman

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the pastor paced the sacristy
practicing his sermon,
it centered on the concept of
if life was predetermined
if fate was inescapable
if faith was somehow capable
of altering a destiny
if prayers and praise
and sacred days
improve life consequentially….
he hadn’t worked the ending out
it needed final touches
like words and thoughts,
he thought he ought
to give it just as much as
the beginning,
but this one wasn’t winning,
this time he’d met his match.
he scrapped the whole idea
and then began again from scratch
Ω
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
© 2016 kStan(ly) Lanning
picture by trudi90, courtesy pixabay.com
Daily prompt – praise
Daily prompt – sacred
Daily prompt – capable, while we work on something new

the word is unpredictable, part 2

the word is unpredictable, part 1

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there is no word today!
the girl is going mad!
bring the word page back oh please
or things may turn out bad
the day will take a downhill slope
she’ll have no will
she’ll have no hope
she’ll have no reason to survive
the word was keeping her alive
it was her air
it was her food
it helped with her
creative mood
oh wait, what’s this
i have a verse to post
it doesn’t need a word prompt
it needs polishing at most
and a picture as its consort
it needs a title too
and so until they fix the page
this little verse will do.
phew!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
© 2016 kStan(ly) Lanning
picture by chezbeate, courtesy pixabay.com
Daily Prompt – none!
Daily Prompt – they fixed it!

a st0rm 0f w0rds

storm of birds

when i write
a storm of words
amasses in my head
it’s hard to filter through them
it’s hard to find the thread
they bounce about like heavy hail
they soak like drenching rain
and passers by may wonder why
i haven’t got a brain
i do, oh,
i do though

its just behind
these clouds
and i can’t focus
ooh, pretty crocus…
did i say that out loud?

i laser in on weathering
and weather strips for later
i guess things would be worse
if i lived nearer the equator
(more storms i mean and
hurricanes and who knows
what else then)
i’m putting on my slicker
and i’m going in again
all i need is one full verse
that satisfies the urge
i’m nearly there i’m losing hair
i’m almost on the verge
that’s when i hear
a horrid howl
the wind takes 0ut
a fav0rite v0wel
and in my fright and
dark 0f night
i stub my little t0e
but i can’t say an0ther thing
that has the letter “0 “
0h wait, 0h h0, I’ll use zer0
zer0, zer0, y0u’re my her0
but really, st0rm,
have y0u n0 c0nscience?
i c0uld have made it
with less c0ns0nants
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

© 2016 kStan(ly) Lanning
created for the Daily prompt – storm
Daily prompt – filter
picture of a storm of birds (because one can’t catch a storm
   of words) by Alessandro Pellacini Benassi, courtesy unsplash.com

he handles his pen with aplomb

the poet had nothing,
nothing but words,
in a well-spoken cursive, delightful.
his words hit on themes
sometimes too obscene,
sometimes too intensely insightful.

he had no other talents
to give him that balance
of steady and bankable income
because most of the time
he was speaking in rhyme,
but isn’t that poetry’s symptom?

with no will to liveflourish
and too little to give
he left home with a weight on his shoulders
leaving behind
what was left of his mind
and a shelf full of tiny tin soldiers.

his sisters spent years
with some kind volunteers
his momma just wanted him near her…
or someone named Keith,
with her losing her teeth
it was getting much harder to hear her.

his rescuers claimed that
his hands were inflamed
when they found him downtown in the Bowery.
they went out on a limb
and confirmed it was him
when his sentences tended to flowery.

“he may be malnourished
but he writes with a flourish
he handles his pen with aplomb”
so they cleaned up his wounds,
brought him back to his room,
where he penned one last poem for his mom.

© 2016 kStan(ly) Lanning

created for the Daily prompt – flourish
but playing in the Daily prompt – volunteer – while i work on something new
and because i love it so much, Daily prompt – clean

raisons

can’t dance
since my hip got sprained
can’t operate,
i was never trained
can’t marathon,
asthma inhibits
can’t stop rhyming,
as this exhibits.
the rhymes were the reason
i was without reason
i could babble for hours and days
i tried not to notice
(most people don’t know this)
how hungry i was for some praise.
when i was in high school i carried a box
with my poems all numbered and sorted
i had a small crew i could show my work to
and always be promptly rewarded.
now that i’ve lived
a whole lot of life
i’m looking at what i’ll be leaving —
the legacy
to my kids from me
may not be financially freeing.
they’ll inherit my verse,
hey things could be worse,
but my two are my raisons d’être.
as for the the poems and etcetera,pelican
if i don’t have
a way to get the art out,
creative me may cease to be
and i will cry my heart out.
i’ve always had, up to this day,
to say things in a different way,
to work art in to every job
to be the one uncommon slob
to stand somewhat apart,
those are my raisons d’art.

© 2016 kStan(ly) Lanning
re-posted with the Daily prompt – marathon, until something new runs in