Writing A Poem

You are griped by a scene -

it slaps you across the face and forces you to gasp.

You leave the zeroes and ones waiting

for the desire to set fire with verse.

The old hand-made paper notebook and an expensive ink 

have not romanced each other, it has been a while.

The pulpy paper - soft to the touch - balmed with musty scent 

lays bare and ready to be ravished; the pen stands in position.

Should you write fourteen lines, carefully chosen ten syllables per line?

It could include a satirical twist at the end.

Or should you write free verse -

free flowing lines dancing wild?

You scribble a few lines, caring for

nothing, not even the unfashionable rhyme.

Noses Of The World

A brazen bump on 

the smooth and supple surface,

pocked with pores is 

the protruding nose.

Slender and long or 

fat and strong, 

it is distracting but 

adds character. 

When in love, you 

muzzle two together,

And in anger, you 

flare it to breathe fire.

It grows and reshapes, 

an eternal flux throughout your age,

the sharp line or 

the short snout is 

here to stay.