The Written Hour

There’s worship in the way I silent sit,

To practice verse:

With candles in dark corners I have lit,

All thoughts disperse;

There’s sacrifice in how I pour this wine,

And dream it up:

Each word is water, transmutes into mine

In mine own cup.

There’s knowing in the keeping of a pen

For evening arts;

And cunning in the craft of hearing when

This silence starts.

There’s something in the sound of it, fast kept

As I begin it:

When the witching hour awakes, all dreams are slept.

There’s worship in it.

At times I truly see the connection between poetry and magic. Incantation, conviction, imagination; conjuration, curses, blessings; secrecy, artistry, and wonder. I think all artistic endeavour is a craft. 

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One thought on “The Written Hour

  1. Dear James

    Really brilliant! Have you a publisher? Sometimes I do a painting that just works all of its own, despite my patient efforts and mistakes. I love this poem. Gran

    Sent from my iPad

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