The Sense of Inspiration

Posted on by Benjamin Thomas 

THE SENSE OF INSPIRATION: Marry The Gold



The beauty of inspiration is hardly inimical. 
The might of its contagion spreads like the wildfire
of French marigolds. 

It seeks to hold the retina captive—taken hostage,
with its awestruck glamour, like a tenfold hammer, 
sizzling optic nerves piped to the brain. 

It seeks to remain, replicate its burning sunset flames
spewed out to whimsical petals—
edged and tamed by the guardrails of amber yellow. 

True healing seems to be its abiding fellow;
burning away the dross of pain, anger, and torment
of hidden sorrows. 

The true rapture of inspiration knows no tomorrow,
for the skilled nature of its artistry demands the here—
and now. 

It is an alluring shield against the precise arrows of anxiety,
deflecting the anguish of a perilous state of mind. 

If we would only labor to find, dig, for its glittering treasure,
marry the dimension of its true measure, and seek the gold—
of inspiration. 



Benjamin Thomas 



Prompt from Poeticbloomings.com

Under The Moon Of Reflections

Posted on by Benjamin Thomas 

This poem is dedicated to those who lost their lives in the Tulsa Massacre 100 years ago. R.I.P. 




UNDER THE MOON OF REFLECTIONS



The night lamp hung tight;
the yellowy vibrant glow 
of suspended moon-rock
riding the night skies—

Casts no light of its own,
yet it owns the sure fire ways 
of blazing sun. 

Its shining is resolute,
bearing witness to and exposing
the sins of those who shed blood. 

She tearfully remembers—
the dark deeds of those 
are written on her eyes. 

Her moonlit tears,
streaming down are wet with grief;
pondering the voices of those 
crying out to her. 

She knows them by name,
their escaping last sighs, and the heart wrenching cries of orphaned lost children. 

Her light danced across 
their little faces—but they would no longer see the faces of loved ones.  


But of strangers, 
they would come to know 
the face of bitterness, 
and the countenance of death. 


The night-lamp held her breath,
taking in the harrowing 
account of lives lost. 


She always sees—
the nightseer, and always delivers
the hushed misdeeds of the spoken night. 

Because there’s still,
an inflamed material witness
when they turn their back
on the way of the light. 

Even though they may move
about in the darkness—
no one can escape the revealing eye
of the open moon. 




Benjamin Thomas


Poetry Prompt #323: A Patchwork of Sorts/Beware.

Posted on by Benjamin Thomas

Poetry Prompt #323 – PLAYING FAVORITES #6

from POETIC BLOOMINGS

 

“Playing Favorites” is as simple as choosing a favorite poet/poem (world famous or just famous in our own little garden) and picking a line or title of one of their poems and using it as an inspiration for your new piece. Incorporate the line/title into your poem (remembering to credit the source and poet always).

 

This is a two part poem inspired by Mary Shelley, author of Frankenstein.

 

“It’s alive, it’s alive! —Frankenstein, the 1931 film.”

 

Part I

A PATCHWORK OF SORTS

 

I am
a Frankenstein
of sorts.

A
patchwork of abuse,
neglect, and pain.

Of
rugged terrain
acreage of mines and egg shells.

A
land where thorns
and thistles flock.

A
dichotomy of
love, enmity.

A
contradiction
of wills.

A
lab’s creation–
world’s abomination.

A
composition of
concert, disharmony.

A
string of psalms,
weeping, and wailing.

A
composite of strength,
and weakness.

A
spine of a beast,
nerves of a laggard.

I
am Frankenstein—
It’s alive, it’s alive!

 

Benjamin Thomas

 

 

Part II

“Beware; for I am fearless, therefore powerful.” – Mary Shelley Frankenstein

 

BEWARE

 

Should I embrace, or brace
for a kiss or assault?

An incoming hug
Is a knife to the heart

Why do the people fear
what you have created?

I have sown abundant kindness
yet my hands reap mockery

The soil is now unsuitable
breeding a harvest of vanity

I feel the weight of emptiness
the ineptness of my laboring

I taste the wicked fruit of anguish
drunk with the aged wine of anger

I pause, step into the day with boldness
sauntering along simplicity’s rhythm

Beware for I am fearless
therefore powerful

 

Benjamin Thomas

 

 

Poetry Prompt #323: The World We Know

Posted on by Benjamin Thomas

Poetry Prompt #323 – PLAYING FAVORITES #6

from POETIC BLOOMINGS

 

“Playing Favorites” is as simple as choosing a favorite poet/poem (world famous or just famous in our own little garden) and picking a line or title of one of their poems and using it as an inspiration for your new piece. Incorporate the line/title into your poem (remembering to credit the source and poet always).

 

Inspired by “There is no frigate like a book” – Emily Dickinson

 

THE WORLD WE KNOW

 

There is no frigate like a book
that sets sail on boundless sea
transports carriage of heart to heart
champion, writer, and me.

I’ve traversed the wayward winds afar
wandered green lands to and fro
no distance can set us apart
pages, and pages, the world we know

 

Benjamin Thomas

Poetry Prompt #323: The Sound of Music

Posted on by Benjamin Thomas

Poetry Prompt #323 – PLAYING FAVORITES #6

from POETIC BLOOMINGS

 

“Playing Favorites” is as simple as choosing a favorite poet/poem (world famous or just famous in our own little garden) and picking a line or title of one of their poems and using it as an inspiration for your new piece. Incorporate the line/title into your poem (remembering to credit the source and poet always).

 

Inspired by two quotes and a poem by William Blake.

“Flowers are the music of the ground.
From Earth’s lips spoken without sound.”
-Edwin Curran

“Flowers grow out of dark moments.”
– Carita Kent

The line: “Arise from their graves and aspire” – Ah! Sun-flower by William Blake

 

THE SOUND OF MUSIC

 

Flowers grow out of dark moments.
They suffer in silence, agony of season,
the sure atrophy of splendid beauty.

When its glory is rendered inert;
Its pride sluggish, withers,
and returns to the dirt.

Flowers are the music of the ground.
Isolated, their irksome path begins unseen,
not green, but a timid auburn brown.

Arise from their graves and aspire!
They yield to the calling of the sun.
Blushing together as they sing, as a journey has begun.

 

Benjamin Thomas

Poetry Prompt #323: The Dark Knight

Posted on by Benjamin Thomas

Poetry Prompt #323 – PLAYING FAVORITES #6

from POETIC BLOOMINGS

 

“Playing Favorites” is as simple as choosing a favorite poet/poem (world famous or just famous in our own little garden) and picking a line or title of one of their poems and using it as an inspiration for your new piece. Incorporate the line/title into your poem (remembering to credit the source and poet always).

 

“I shall be telling this with a sigh” – The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

 

THE DARK KNIGHT

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh,
so pinch my cheek and slap my thigh.
Should I be me? Or who I’m supposed to be?

I gather you want me to be that guy,
with a spring in his step and a lively eye.
Are you simply vying for the best version of me?

I get the impression that you wonder why,
when there’s gloom, sorrow, and happy lies?
Yet every beauty of the earth weathers the storm.

I am a skilled knight stuck in fraudulent armor,
but with the dogged love of a diligent farmer.
I pray, you see the effulgence through the rain.

I shall be telling this with a sigh,
It’s not all sunny, balmy, or blue skies.
Gardens emerge from assurance of love, and toil of pain.

 

Benjamin Thomas

How to Make a Million Dollars Writing Poetry

Posted on by Benjamin Thomas

 

IT’S TELEVISION TUESDAY

 

 

Tv with antenna clip art image

 

 

How to Make a Million Dollars Writing Poetry (The Self Publishing Show, episode 228)

 

 

 

Poet Pierre Jeanty

The Self Publishing Formula.com

 

 

 

Train bullet clip art image

 

 

 

A Word with Kate Rhodes on Writing

Posted on by Benjamin Thomas

Kate Rhodes image

 

 

 

A Word with Kate Rhodes on Writing

 

 

What’s your creative approach to writing?

I treat it like a job, these days. It may sound unromantic, but writing one or two novels a year takes discipline. I tend to research, write and edit for eight hours, every week day.

 

 

Outlining or pantsing?  

I like to outline, but always veer away from my plan! I wish I could stick to my blueprint, but I get distracted by better ideas, or juicier characters, so my plans are constantly changing.

 

 

 

Close up on hand writing on notepad with pen

 

 

 

When you write crime fiction what comes first? The crime, character, idea?

First the location, then the theme. I fell in love with the Isles of Scilly as a child, for their wild remoteness and knew I had to set a series there.

 

How do you get to know your characters?

I write detailed profiles, so I know all of their quirks.

 

 

 

Nice to Meet you image.jpeg

 

 

 

What’s the hardest part of writing for you?

Lack of confidence. It doesn’t matter how many books I write, I always reach a point, midway through the writing when my belief takes a nosedive. It takes one heck of a lot of stamina and a robust ego to stay in the writing game.

 

 

How has your writing process changed over the years and books written?

I began life as a poet, writing longhand, but now use my computer for pretty much everything. With poetry you have to agonise over every word because the form is so precise, but prose is much more discursive.

 

 

 

Poetry image on wood.jpeg

 

 

 

Did you write poetry before novels?

I surely did. Two collections, Reversal and The Alice Trap, both published by wonderful London press, Enitharmon.

 

 

What do you enjoy most about poetry?

Its impact. If a poem is doing its job well, it can be like a bullet of truth, straight to the heart.

 

 

 

Bullet in motion dark background image.jpeg

 

 

 

Can you share one of your poems?

Not right now, I’m afraid, I’m deep in the middle of a crime novel, but my poems are floating around on the net if you go looking for them.

 

 

What next for you?

Two more books in my Hell Bay series, published by Simon and Schuster, which I’m enjoying enormously.

 

 

Hell Bay

Ruin Beach

Burnt Island

 

 

 

Kate Rhodes image 2

 

 

KATE RHODES is a full-time crime writer, living in Cambridge with her husband, a writer and film maker. Kate used to be an English teacher and has published two award winning collections of poetry. In 2015 she won the Ruth Rendell short story prize. Kate is the author of the acclaimed ALICE QUENTIN series, with the fifth book, BLOOD SYMMETRY published in 2016.

In January 2018 Kate will publish the first novel in a new series, HELL BAY, a crime novel set on the remote Cornish island of Bryher, featuring DI Ben Kitto.
.

 

KateRhodeswriter.com

 

 

 

 

Train vintage red in mountains image.jpeg

Poetry: Jubilee

Posted on by Benjamin Thomas

 

 

足かせを付けられた人間の足

 

 

JUBILEE

 

 

They bound me without consent.

I moved with the weight of the world upon my shoulders,

each extremity shackled like a slave.

Hunched like a frail elderly man; I attempted to move about,

all the while under the suppression of guilt,

shame, and condemnation.

Shackled by wounds,  I writhed in agony

as they brought me down to the pits of darkness, a land of creeping shadow.

It was there where I was blind to their desire to devour me.

Fallen prey to the animalistic appetite to consume every shred of hope—

Until I came into the light.

 

Under the shining  of the light, I was appalled at their stronghold against me.

The illumination of their strength was all too unsettling.

I couldn’t bear the sight of them.

They surrounded me like a wild forest of Oaks, mocking my every step.

A multitude of tears sought urgent release, to spring forth,

evade the depth of my unconsciousness–but I could not allow them.

 

Yet there in the light was my salvation.

There in the light, their power over me would heal.

It was there I welcomed glorious liberty.

One like I’ve never experienced before.

The rays of jubilee were before me.

No wild forests to cast a shadow,

pits of darkness of oppression.

No shackles, bonds, or crushing burden.

Only life, light and liberty.

 

 

 

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