Spotlight: Rohan Writes
Updated: Jan 26
I'm very pleased and honored to present the poems of fellow poet Rohan Writes. Rohan and I met online about 4 months ago in a very unexpected way. (In some group) I replied to another poet's ramblings about inspiration and Rohan asked me, directly, what inspires me. I replied, "Radiohead", (expecting no return comment) and he immediately responded with a very impressive knowledge of the band, their lyrics, and themes expressed throughout their collection of work.
During our second conversation, he recommended I listen to the band Portishead (knowing some of my other musical interests). I paused because my computer speakers were playing Portishead at the same time of his recommendation. It was kind of funny and spooky, at the same time - I spent the next 30 minutes searching my computer for software listening devices. Needless to say, Rohan and I share much in our taste in music - and there are no spying devices on my computer. Lol.
Rohan is English and England is 5 hours ahead of Atlanta, GA. But, even with this time difference (and, possibly, because of it), Rohan and I often enjoy really fun and interesting conversations - during my mid-evening and his late night. It's probably the only way a morning person, like me, and a night owl, like Rohan, easy find time to chat. Haha.
Rohan is the kind of friend who turns a bad day better. He is well versed and familiar with all kinds of things I enjoy (which is super rare) and he has introduced me to music, writings, and ideas with which I was not previously familiar. He is an accomplished poet, a published author and a successful musician - and one of the most fascinating and genuinely kind people I've met in recent years.
So, without further commentary, here are 2 poems from Rohan Writes. I hope you enjoy them!
Rohan writes: I so wish that I had spoken up and introduced myself to this guy I saw on a train between Bruges and Brussels. As the carriage began to roll and we left the station he took out a note book and had a small carrier bag from which he revealed a new pen. At first I thought this was just a fountain pen, but he added ink to a cartridge, inspecting it like a nurse with a syringe, then pieced it all together with an assassin’s dexterity, before proceeding to open his notebook and begin to sketch. I couldn’t quite work out what the drawings were but it looked like he was not new to the actions as he took moments to complete something, then move to the next doodle. Either way, his creativity was obvious and thus inspired this verse.
Ink flow through fibre,
Bleeding to shape the artists hand,
To implore with what is torn to release through smiles and comfortable ease.
To share a verse or painter’s note comes never but by chance,
Through odds much greater than a lottery favours,
so delight in what the eye can savour,
Shut out the carriage, make peace with your busying surround,
Find place to create and share what's to be found.
Observe your curve to concentrate on cartoon crafts as wheels rotate,
In a moment to kill, no time to lose,
Should you wish to make use of this social muse,
Draw on, write on, wherever to be,
Know lines all paint pictures,
Pray share with you
and thus to me.
A tear laden sky reflects the mood.
Unsure of how to breathe the air,
so heavy a pressure, pile fear upon fear.
Barometer rising and diving in turmoil,
storm fronts that threaten, fat droplets that tap
a malingering delinquent in me and in you.
Our limbo in judgment of what is to come,
when all we can do is swell, then subdue.
Energy sparks, lighting fire in their millions,
maybe a wake up is coming within?
Many are hoping for firm resolution,
here's hoping it's not just a war monger’s whim.
Look in the mirror, today is a start,
refections of pastiche, remind you of hindsight.
So hold on the thought and then try and remember;
unlike our weather that has no master,
our storm is man made and built on disaster.
Grey through the porthole is all, lost at sea,
when all is too much, close your eyes,
you are free.