homerite

Living Poems

Hello All and Welcome

I'm Roger Homer, a writer with a different approach from most, based on "nature sense". Instead of writing about subjects, I observe, wait, and let them express their essential, inmost character. Then I convey it intuitively.

The poems below are from my three published collections: Childhood's Compass, The Essence of Nature and Love's Mirages, the last two available now from Troubador Publishing at £9.99.

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"Like toys with broken springs... zigzags, gone, then back" (wagtails walking)

"Sparklers ... silver splashes, turning oily pools to a shivering rainbow" (the Black Country)

"Nature revealed ... by sharing of the heartbeat in nutshells of the universe" (music of Sibelius)

Rain rhythms

Night rain at wind's whim,

rolling regal across the sky,

hunting down in seething billows,

bucks, plunges. mane-tossing,

all drunk with freedom

But melts to mist,

hangs, coils, writhes,

wringing heart for its heartease

Then, shattering on glass, brain,

jolting you from armchair thoughts,

comes thicker, faster,

lashing house facades

till ripped away, it tears off,

swept against the racing moon.

November leaves

The plain backdrop spotlights

the many roles of leaves:

shaken, bounced, churned

like fairground thrills ...

starting out among the greenery

in every shade, calm to frenzy;

meandering like powdered snow,

drifting down or manic-dancing;

fallen, to cushion raindrops

and gladden the mind;

for burning or digging in

or prized for winter sleep.

Suddenly I feel a chill

and ponder choices dragging on

and my new leaves

which must be evergreen.

"Oh! for a love from the core, stripped back from so much learned"

"You sat on my care as on your worn armchair"

"One seized the other, sunk in its roots and drained the life"

Soaring joys

Led from the street, we two drown

in lights dimmed down and pounding

beat

and join our mates in drinking punch,

the jiving bunch, all making dates;

now games begun roll back the years

with laughter, cheers and noisy fun.

But pity those whose pleasure ends

in burst balloons:

no interests shared nor joy to learn,

no feel for art nor beauty in the world,

no growing union, spurring creativity

which inflates, climbs and soars away.

Her two paintings

A ballerina

with an aura luminescent, near-divine,

startles from dark chocolate ground

within a glow that's beckoning,

obsessing over shoes with rapturous face:

the living-out submerged,

living the life inborn.

A winter scene:

poisoned sky, frozen fields

bare to the horizon

but for a lone tree

struck through to the heart:

its inborn life

ravaged by the living-out.

"I mixed, boiled and stirred, with fizzing froth: a medicine man"

"the miracle came, our human current sought Liverpool next round"

..."so few have that feel: where are they, the girls like Abigail ?"

Dodgem fair

"On this carousel you just can't fail!" ...

The nuts look so big on the coconut shy,

but like a flash my money's all spent;

I shy and I shy, but I can't make a dent

'cos they've stuck 'em all down with Tunnel cement.

My luck must change on the rifle range,

but the barrel's askew when I try to sight,

so I aim to the left and I score to the right

with a cheap plastic bowl and a paper kite.

But wait! this could be better yet;

my Voyager 3 is blazing a trail

and I've just discovered the Holy Grail:

On this carousel you just can't fail!

Doubled pain

How could Mum drag me away

from those float-on days,

leaving me with an empty ache,

a lodger with these relatives?

Them and us

each in our bitter silences

feeling the extra weight

of the others' burden,

only relating out of trenches

over a no-man's land

when humanity breaks through.

I feel like an obstacle here:

nails dig into flesh.

What was my crime?

Reviews

"Coleridge defined poetry as 'the best words in the best order' ... and here the poet gives great thought (to this) ... expertly leads the reader to the object in the centre ... and the secret is revealed. His use of alliteration lends musicality ... the imagery contributes to the pictorial beauty .... you can touch and feel the objects ... Wonderful poetry! " Amrita Mohan, Co-ordinator, Joy of Poetry group

... "beautifully crafted and evocative poetry, capturing nature's physical transience and symbolism of change, renewal and time passing, the duality of death and rebirth. Also nature as a metaphor for personal growth; a longing for permanence with a sense of gentle melancholy. His poems weave thoughtful metaphors, conveying the essence of the intimate and universal with masterful contrast of the playful and reflective, a keen eye for detail and talent for expressing complex emotions with grace."

"Vivid imagery, juxtaposition of contrasting ideas and exploration of the relationship between inner life and external reality. The use of rich sensory language creates a strong sense of atmosphere, while the contrasts offer a nuanced exploration of life, beauty and decay." Writer, All Poetry group

"Beautiful words which often expertly express the need to move on and how difficult and fearful it can be." Writer, All Poetry

"Beautiful, powerful imagery! The sort of beauty I imagine in The Nutcracker. Great work! Writer, All Poetry

N.B: Anyone with a literary background (e.g. authors, lecturers) offering reviews will earn a 10% discount on

the price of my next collection.

About me

Qualifications

B.A. (London) degree in English and French literature and history;
Licentiate of National Council of Psychotherapists (L.N.C.P.)

My two careers

Journalist, concluding with 17 years as sub editor on Sunday Express and Daily Mail;
Psychotherapist in private practice and for the then Employment Service.

Published poetry