Posted by: Ron DuBour | May 25, 2015

Daily missive for Monday the 25th of May.~by Peter Forster

Hi all is was charged with writing a poem a day by my friend Author Giok Ping Ang
no hardship there then. But she also asked me to nominate another poet. I hope it doesn’t upset him but I nominate Robbie Fleming whose work I greatly admire.


Daily missive for Monday the 25th of May.

What of words
And inspiration.
How do they touch
The heart and reap
So fine a victory
As to change minds
And cultivate
A culture of civility
In the course of
Just a few brief lines.
How do positive
Self statements
Affect so many,
When individual
Often render them
Before they
Even reach their end.
When you wake
Each morning
And survey your place
Does the world
Shift in its axis
On the turn of a phrase.
And should it be so
When so much damage
Can be caused
By the blind acceptance
Of so obvious and
Powerful a message.
Would it were different,
And beauty be
So easily followed,

When anger
Is so much more
Easily stirred.
Nothing becomes
The discriminating soul
More than the acceptance
Of difference.
The full and unambiguous
Support of love.
And yet,
We expect it as a right,
Without making the effort
It might need,
To earn its respect.
Love is no easy option
It can be the hardest
Of task masters.
It demands honesty,
And acceptance
As a prerequisite.
This being said,
In its pure form
There can be no finer feeling
Or nobility of cause
Than to celebrate
And cultivate its nature.
Even in the
Self deceptive banality
Of this pith less poetic naivety.
A gently rinsed expose
On the process
Of self creation.

The erstwhile scribe,
His purposeful endeavour
To entertain and inform,
Whilst fooling around
In the tearful
Waters of allusion.
Scattering a spray
Of broken promises
Like splintered rainbows,
Jagged shards,
Droplets of a crystalline heart,
Over the empty plain
Of a bloodless page.
The promotion of self,
From the outer margins
To centre stage.
A passable foray
Into the deliverance of illusion,
Or merely
The rambling narcissism
Of yet another
Penniless pedlar
With a guileless penchant
For the slow pain
That accompanies role confusion,
And the insistent
Questioning voice
That exists to furnish
The home of doubt,
Stoke the smouldering fires
Of self delusion,
And tries to find a way
To live within
Us all.

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