Ishaisms, Poetry

Of imitation and flattery…and market squares

Is that the cost of inspiration, then? You steal from the artist an idea, a thought, a penny, in the market square and say it's borrowed? Is that the price you pay for a good deed not unpunished; the law of Karma nullified; not returned by another fair and square - stolen, to be returned… Continue reading Of imitation and flattery…and market squares

Ishaisms, Poetry

NOT MYSELF TODAY

My fingers don’t feel like themselves today - they don’t hold my pen as they are wont to; they don’t scrape words out of ink, on the parchment, or tap the temple to stumble across a new one or two… My mind doesn’t feel like itself today - It composes no rhyme as it is… Continue reading NOT MYSELF TODAY

Ishaisms, Poetry

THE REMNANTS

You chose the balmy ink to delineate, a dismal, (formerly unevoked ) cry; then appalled at the sketchy truth, did to bits separate, the frail parchment with fingers spry. What started in an inspired hour, proved taxing and intricate to upkeep; colours and lines bore uncanny power, to disrupt, to reveal... Cowed all the while… Continue reading THE REMNANTS