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September 2023
HP Poet: Old Poet MK
Age: 80, but feels 79
Country: Canada

Question 1: We welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Old Poet MK. Please tell us about your background?

Old Poet MK: "I was a poor scholar…difficult concentration issues from grade school onward…very little was known about dyslexia in those early years…it’s a bit of a different world…many blessings and all kinds of curses. I was fortunate to invent and able to patent a few things that people were willing to pay for. My wife and I opened a small factory and manufactured decorative accessories for interior designers in the commercial market, offices…malls…lobby’s, etc. Making a living doing something you enjoy…feels good…and for almost 40 years It was hard working fun…I was inventing day and night."

Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Old Poet MK: "I recall attempting poetry when I was in my early 20’s…lyrics for tunes, etc…but I didn’t keep a record of that period, it wasn’t until my early 50’s when Leonard Cohen captured me in the magic of his rhythmic language…it was a melodic trap…the lyrics blew my mind and my world got a little bigger, from that time on I wrote frequently…and read the work of many poets trying to figure out how it all works….I wrote for my own enjoyment and a deep desire to improve...I began to submit my poems on a couple of sites about 12 years ago…I finally found Hello Poetry in 2016…the best of the lot in its own way…There are talented wonderful people here…"

Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Old Poet MK: "There’s no particular formula or pattern….I think it happens when I get a little edgy…and my unconscious has observed a puzzle untamed…for me poetry is self discovery, it emerges raw…and I do my best to tame it."

Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Old Poet MK: "Poetry is important to me….a sense of fulfilment digesting the work of the great poets…incredible philosophies between the words….reading the work of fellow poets…learning from heartfelt insight…I take my own work seriously and work ******* interpretation and refinement…it all feels a worthy time spent….squeezing meaning out of abstraction and allegory tongues or plain words. The freedom of poetry is a gift….the lightning speed of brevity conquers a complex point in a flash….compared to a few pages of prose…it is a fascinating creative process using colors of your own choice…up down or sideways…verse rhyme or hybrid…you birth an original poem."

Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Old Poet MK: "Leonard Cohen…I understand his misery. Irving Layton…another Canadian poet…a close friend and mentor of Cohen…fascinating love poems. Bukowski…for his genius and dignity. Mark Strait…amazing work that surprises. Billy Collins…the lightness of his heart. Emily Dickinson…who forced me to find the voice in a poem and it’s attitude to help me understand and interpret (as important as writing itself) and I don’t always get it…"

Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Old Poet MK: "It is wonderful when one retires and has a few hobbies and deep interests. I’m an Audiophile…with a proud record collection and old vintage gear. I clean, preen and constantly improve. I paint large abstract expression (acrylic on canvas), they take a long time, sometimes one will surprise me and end up on a wall. I’ve been playing saxophone since I was a kid….never could read worth a nickel, yet it’s been very rewarding…the challenge and joy of improvisation trusting your ear. In the world of jazz I’ve met and performed with amazing people…"

Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for giving us an opportunity to get to know you, my friend! You are a wonderful addition to the series!”

Old Poet MK: "Thank you Carlo…Appreciated….What you do is not easy…"

Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Old Poet MK a little bit better. I indeed did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable)

We will post Spotlight #8 in October!

Here I am with my head held high
Leaving this deserted land
Straight towards those mesmerizing gates
Of wonderland

I don't know how many times I've been through this
These traumatic events are intense
And the pain from electric shock is immense
But the drugs they give
They are truly pure bliss

I never asked for this
But here I am
Without the help of my friends
And it's just me
Dealing with all of this
It's okay though
I'm too selfless
And I didn't want any of them
Brought into my life's mess

I love them
And I miss them so ******* much.
Created by me on March 13th, 2020
Riz Mack Jul 2019
She shines like a rainbow in the night
a light, unbounded and free
Her warmth is a welcome respite
thawing the deepest freeze

Her lips a red velvet chorus
I can't help but overhear
She glows with the translucent aura
of a picturesque sunset sea

Buttercups turn to greet her smile
she'll lift your head with ease
Trees send their leaves for thousands of miles
just to be in her breeze

Her eyes are an ocean of opalescent blues
inviting the bold to dive in
and swim to a world of untold hues
her sparkle is unrivalled

In her violet dress and violent heels
The Devil would bare his soul for free
and so might I, for just a taste
the chance to lay her light to waste
first time I've gone back and edited a thing into a (hopefully better?) thing
myranda Mar 2019
How can you sleep at night
Knowing  your tearing a family apart
Do you think your saving someone
Saving them and giving them a better life
In reaity YOUR NOT!!!!
She says
"You need to get stight A's"
"you need to change who you are"
And you cant stay stay who you are or where you belong
How can you sleep at night
When you used her for sexaul things
Then up and left
Useing her like a toy
Want to be left alone and loved at the same time.
How can you sleep at night
When you left , came back and left again then came back
"Your so bipoler"
My soul feel like a pit of blackness
broke many times now stronger
wanting to float away because been hurt many times
Anit it funny how you can sleep at night and the other person can't
A Simillacrum Jun 2018
if a bitter wind blows

if a liar arrives

on my patio
hard heart
with the

pressed on the razor's edge
(grinning ear to ear as if I wanted it)

when what was once the worst
(grinning ear to ear as if I wanted it)

returns to a placid place

a new threat may
Mary Gay Kearns Apr 2018
In a field at the edge where
The Burnet's reproduced
Their dark wings with six red spots
Giving birth on our hands
From inside their chrysalis.

Mating from egg, larvae
To pupae and adult moth
Took about three weeks
We went almost everyday
The hot sun stroking our backs.

This was our moth Summer
Guiding our courtship with
Fluttering wings and newness
Stepping through the railings
To gain this precious time.
Burnet moths have dark matalic background colour and six red spots on their two
forewings . The caterpillar is green with black spots and is poisonous.They feed on clover, birds-foot trefoil and grassland flowers where it is sandy.
They are stunning moths but only live a few days after laying their eggs .Moths like knapweed and scabious.
Liz Carlson Mar 2018
ive traveled here and there.
ive seen incredible works of art
and pieces of history
scattered across the globe.

never will i know "home",
never will i fully belong,
never will i not miss someone.

a life full of adventures
and new faces,
i wouldn't trade it for anything.

the pain is always there,
but the memories will never fade.
joy will always abound
in the hope for the future
and the days of the past.

being a world traveler,
a vagabond,
has its troubles.
but the rewards make
it well worth it.
Therese Syang Apr 2017
Everytime I think about you, keeps me wonder...
Your eyes tell a story that makes me think deeper...

Wondering what those lips can tell that makes my ears want to hear without weary...

Never cared about your presence but every minute that chances give in seeing you each day, makes me seek your face in the place we first met.

Everytime I start to think about you, emotions of happiness fade between thoughts that reality may never drag us closer together...

For YOU and ME is the sweetest yet the saddest words that WE could never be.
Only for the brave hearts
Juniper Mar 2017
How can I explain to you
What is within me?
I am African
I am American
I am both
And I am neither
I am something
And I am nothing
And yet…I am everything.
But I cannot be like you
Trust me.
I’ve tried.
You say “Welcome back”
Like my roots are in this soil
But how can I explain to you?
My body originated here.
But not my soul.
My soul was born in the arms of Mama Africa
She is not the ancestor of my skin
But of my spirit
And my roots run deep in her red earth
Her drumbeat, my hear.
Yet here I am…
I look like you.
I sound like you.
But I am not like you.
And when I try to explain
What I’ve seen
And done
And known
And how I became
You feel as though I am big
And you are not.
But it isn’t true.
I am not bigger.
You are not smaller
We are just…different.
I contain a vastness
That is misunderstood
That vastness holds so much
Yet often feels so empty.
And I cannot be like you.
Trust me.
I’ve tried.
But when I do it feels like chains
Shackles of iron
I try to deepen my roots
For you.
But when I try
I can only seem to spread my wings
And I am sorry.
I am sorry that I cannot make my home in you.
I am sorry that I make you feel small.
I do not mean to.
I am sorry I cannot find the words to explain
What it is like
To feel as though your skin is too tight for your soul
To feel as though you are always
Nowhere and Everywhere
Nothing and Everything
No one and Everyone
Too much…and never enough
I am sorry.
But I am trying.
So when I try…
When I share with you these tangled feelings
When I crack open the door
To the whirlwind within
Do not ask me to shut it.
Please, do not ask me to hide away
Because you cannot relate to the chaos behind my eyes.
Don’t see the mess.
See me.
And love me.
For the mystery that I am.
To you.
And to myself.
by emma jones
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