Burn Up

The summer of ’13
won’t trip off the tongue,
Not like ’69, when
Bryan Adams was young

I’m a true late developer
in meter and rhyme,
Weaving word tapestries
rescued my mind

It helped me mourn
in the harsh summer heat,
Released my emotions
A skill, bitter-sweet

My dad was a poet
amongst other passions,
To write was his rescue
in a stark world re-fashioned

I’ve now learned that life
can’t really be planned,
But donning my poet’s hat
softens the demands

of a journey turned left
when it ‘should’ have forked right,
I can bleed on the page
without horror or fright

at my raw, stark emotions
which should not be suppressed –
They are what make me
create my art at its best.

Burn Up


This week, Anthony, our host at dVerse Poetics wants us to investigate and ponder on what has made us the poets we are today – was there a turning point long ago, or was the event more recent?

For me, it’s an easy question to answer – the death of my dad last summer. It released something in me, made me much less afraid of expressing my emotions, which I used to keep locked up in a vault. For some reason I chose to rhyme this one – the first verse dictated the pattern, I’m afraid. Blame it on Bryan Adams!

I hope you enjoy my offering – and please do join us! The pub opens at 3pm EST, and I’ll be linking up later. As is my new way, the audio is now also available, which is a minor miracle, since until late morning today, i had lost my voice! Read all about my sickness – here!