Dying to Live

days spent around death

encourages one to live

day by day we die

until we choose to live

life is not lost by dying

life is lost by not living



time never runs out

challenge each day to live

choose to live

with intent

facing life with hope

each day is a new life



each day the butterfly emerges

allow it to flap its wings

to create change

changing the smallest details

completely changes the outcome



grasp the live by the throat

demand to live

live each day to the fullest

until we are absolutely assured

that life will escape us



demand that your life

demonstrates this principle

understanding our limited existence

shout out that each day must be taken

living every day as if it were your last

for one day you're sure to be right

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Why I write Poetry

Writing is an art form and all art is a means of self expression. I weave words not yarn; mix metaphors not paint; rhythm words not chords. Words are my brushes and paper is my canvas. Poetry is the screen shot, screen grab of the writing world, fitting as much as possible in a succinct concise form. It is the literary equivalent of a selfie, a tweet – the Instagram of writing. Poems are this poets answers to the “Why”, attempting to satisfy my urge for closure, even if it is not forthcoming (which often it is not). Everyone is has to figure out there own “Why”, even this poet.

But Why ??

Writing poetry is able to put us in touch with people who are different from ourselves in a non-violent fashion, it becomes a means of pacifist activism. Writing has become who I am, it is both cathartic, healing, confrontational and a means of seeking (partial) closure or venting my darker emotions. My poems are a mix of thoughts, questions and ideas; from journey’s travelled, literal and imaginative; creating a picture of the world from my perspective. Even if, in the writing, there is no closure, that is the closure I require, at that moment.

“Poets have an audience because we need to know how to go about reaching the next day of our lives.”

It has been said, to use a bad metaphor: Poets are kind of like canaries in a coal mine. The conscience/voice of the voiceless. Often my poems, emerge from the pain of personal experience, leading to angry outbursts against the coal mine, in which I from time to time, find myself.

The Arrogance of Entitlement

The Banality of Corporate Deceit

Speaking for myself, but I’m reasonably sure other poets would at times agree. We can’t explain ‘why we write’, but they would certainly understand and agree, that we write for the love of writing poetry. Poems are literary mountains that need to be climbed, in a page or a few lines;  the poem has to be condensed, without straying from the main theme, and it also usually has a beginning, middle and (sometimes) an end. It is this journey which is the challenge, in most cases a deeply personal journey; so walk with me as we step back from your reality and gaze into the abyss of my mind, and let’s see what stares back.

In closing, ponder the words of John Keating from the film: Dead Poets Society.

We don't read and write poetry because it's cute.
We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race.
And the human race is filled with passion.
And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life.
But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.
To quote from Whitman:
"O me! O life!...of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless
of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?"
 
Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play (goes on) and you may contribute a verse.
 
What will your verse be?

John Keating, Dead Poets Society.

A poet writes poetry because they love poetry

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Every Breath (Rise Up – Part 2)

every breath is a doorway

to heaven or hell

so just breath

and see what awaits

as you pause to exhale


by not breathing

we are forced to choose

heaven or hell

but let not fear inspire

either mortality or immortality


let Virgil be your guide

through the mythical dark wood

of spiritual values

that at times

pervert human intellect


the pilgrims journey

demands questions be answered

within the dark forest

on a crooked path

the meaningful can become meaningless

as we journey on a quest

into the soul of god

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Rise Up (Part 1)

when you down who lifts you up

when you lost who finds you

when you fall, it is from grace

if so, whose grace


who is lost with you

who binds the wounds

who do you discover when you are down

yourself or another


what waits over the horizon

what lies beneath the wounds

what lifts you up

come on rise up


we rise by lifting others up

we discover ourselves when lost

we need not be alone

come on stand together


every breath is a doorway

to heaven or hell

so just breath

and rise up

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Crossing Over

winter fast approaches

mist hangs over the river

the breath of ghost’s past

drifts out my silent open mouth

winter comes

but not yet



standing on the banks

of the river that runs through life

rubicon or styx

the boatmen cometh

which ferry to take



I gaze across the river

sinking in the past and present

an uncertain future

Darlin' give me your kiss

only you understand



the summer sun breaks through

the red mist parts

I gaze upon your face

feel your breath across my cheek

Rubicon awaits



unfinished business in summer

cannot cross over ….

Yet

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

The Tide is Turning

any day now

the tide will turn

any night now

a full moon sets

a new moon rises

a new dawn fast approaches

when used correctly

it turns the tides of war

morning is not broken

new dawn

new life

new hope

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

 

Everybody Dies

everybody dies

but not everybody lives

life without living

death without dying

 

walk through forests filled with demons

avoid the the paths

live a little

get lost

 

chase the demons

don’t let them chase you

catch a demon by its tail

then let it go

 

laugh in the face of death

one life

live it

love your life

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Tanka – 5 Lines

The Tanka poem is very similar to haiku but Tanka poems have more syllables and it uses simile, metaphor and personification. There are five lines in a Tanka poem. Tanks poems are written about nature, seasons, love, sadness and other strong emotions. This form of poetry dates back almost 1200 years ago. Here is my first attempt 🙂

any day now tides turn

a full moon sets new moon rises

any night now just wait

 a new dawn fast approaches

 this morning is not broken

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Morning Dew

a new day dawns

the same as yesterday

but it is oh so different

dew glistens across the valley

casting fast disappearing rainbows

chased by bleeding colours across the sky

a new palette of shades awaits

grasp that brush

visualise your perfect picture

experience new found colours

and shadows

beauty whilst transient is eternal

serendipitous blessings in each new moment

reach out and grasp the day

this ephemeral beauty

must not escape

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Editorial Assistance Please :)

To all of my followers and gentle readers, I am busy preparing my anthology of poetry to (hopefully) be published by year end. Introduction has been drafted, cover has been designed, back stories for some of the poems penned and a few interesting photos of my working notes have been taken to (hopefully) insert into the anthology. To try and give you the reader, a feel for my writing and creative process, and what it looks like in rough draft/scribble – (hopefully its not to scary).

This is where you dear gentle reader come into the picture,  by helping me to select 30 to 35 poems, some of which are listed on my site:

Michael’s Poems

Tag one of your favourite poems to be included (by commenting on this post), who knows, you might get to read the back story (as to what inspired me to pen that particular poem), or get to see some of the original draft scribbles and scrawls, photographed from my notebook (which is always in my bag or on my person) – as you never know when inspiration is going to walk through the door.

Thanks again for all the likes and follows … see you in the web world 🙂