My poetry looks to positively explore human potential, with an emphasis on love, spiritual growth and self awareness. It is very important to me that my work remains as open, accessible and as simply expressed as possible. My influences vary from the great traditional English visionary Romantics of the nineteenth century, through to the distillation of thought and leanness of expression offered by the Japanese haiku tradition, the shining examples of Rilke, Eliot and Gibran – as well as the later technical breakthroughs achieved by leading Scottish concrete poets Ian Hamilton Finlay and Edwin Morgan.
Splendour sleeps
In the thick,
Still grey skies
Of a season’s bleakness.
The steady muted glow
Of the sun,
Its sorry circle of gold
Highlighting
The snow covered,
White-edged portrait
Of a winter’s afternoon.
Inside the ashes of the fire
Burn red raw.
We talk
And your eyes dance
In patterns of pleasure
Before me.
From Selected Poetry
“What it would be like
To be infants again.”
And as we grow older
And more saturated
By experience,
Even the saddest
Among us
Cannot begin to know
Or remember
The quality of life
That was there once
For innocence
To indulge in.
And so here we are,
My love and I,
Just doing our best.
Like sunny morning nudes
We sit together
Scheming happiness.
From Selected Poetry
Those few that matter,
They carry their spirit
Before them,
Like a flame in flower
Within eyes that share
Knowing sorrows,
That may seek sex
As a solace
For the suffering in life.
In their own way
They are special,
They cling to the wild beast
In their heads,
And ride it through
A dull dim
Ordinary man’s world,
Where youth fattens
And desire leaks away.
From Selected Poetry
To kiss the fruit
And caress the flower,
To taste
Without tarnishing
Humble nature’s
Natural dower,
In this sweet pursuit
I shall place
My frail body
Till death’s timely hour,
And do so
With only breath remaining
To wish that amidst
The winds of the world,
It will not shake nor cower
In the face of quiet eternity
From Selected Poetry
Within the golden riot
Of one flat freezing autumn
Coldness quite suddenly
Has its own specific final smell,
A smoky meld of musk and damp,
The smell of loss and completion.
Tomorrow will now be made anew,
Though every step forward
On the soft first frost of winter
Will seem like an agony of intrusion,
Like walking on sacred relics,
Or broken bone china
That might crack and spit at you
With its own sense of finish …
Of perfection.
From New Poetry
See how we still seek
Safe harbour
From the hollow pain
That seeps into souls,
Lost of joy.
We grasp
At what juices we can
To become part again
Of the very scent
Of some sudden truth,
That can in its intensity
Outlast the seasons,
The moods and the melancholy.
After all,
Even on a sodden autumn day,
The cruel thorn
Of a bedraggled pastel rose
Still has the polished jagged edge
That crimson blood could burst upon.
From New Poetry
My heart seems so fragile
Near the edge of joy,
It quivers with a resonance
Of something not quite understood.
Yes, such ecstasies are mine…
But still too often
Bitter-sweet longings
Can escape from dreams
And persist like pain
To haunt even the calmest of days.
I am sad,
Like the hot dust on the streets,
And the music of fresh fallen leaves
Caught in a sliding summer breeze.
From New Poetry
Every new day
Our childrens’ joy is as fresh as roses,
Even the birds chatter at dawn.
Tomorrow will be sharp and noisy,
Like the bright spotted splash of wild flowers
That freckle
The shaded tawny look of ancient meadows.
How stubborn life is,
It clings like silver in our souls.
From New Poetry
Oh, to be wise enough
To milk the moments
When they come
And store them away
More carefully in my soul.
Another fragile casket of love
Has been spilt and broken,
Sweet liquors
Have trickled away forever.
And so where now
Are the fruits
Of such fine ecstasies?
Sometimes,
When I’m tired and empty,
I tear through my head,
Like some mad reaper,
Searching in vain for faces,
Fields, flowers,
Lovers that are no more.
How they still stain my heart.
From Meditations
Out there,
In the fragile shadows
Beyond the self,
Lurks unimaginable power.
Energies that conspire
In the darkness
To offer you
A tantalising glimpse
Of another world:
Possibilities beyond dreams,
The scalding risks
Of magic beyond mortality
That cannot help
But slip through your fingers
As soon as you reach for it’s blessing.
Like the stale perfume
Of a tired romance
The searing light of morning
Asks unwelcome questions,
Fragile hopes soon blistered by daylight.
From Meditations
If there’s an ambition
Then it’s to damage dullness.
To cause a tear, a slash,
Some rip in the surface of things.
Not damage for it’s own sake,
But an attempt to sever connections,
To abandon convention, obligation.
To escape pattern.
To reach down within the wound
And grasp something of
The soft visceral truth beneath.
Here, illuminated at last,
Nestles the ruddy glint
Of spiritual certainty.
Sweet moments of passion and healing,
Of sensual release.
From Meditations
Age gathers, colludes.
Cadences fade fitfully,
Seemingly before their time.
But there are echoes still,
Shapes we inherit,
We inhabit, we bequeath.
A life however bravely spent,
Will always be jagged, incomplete,
Never far away
From being enveloped in darkness.
Some may say,
Especially those who’ve known joy in life,
That this is not right.
I tell you clearly they are wrong.
So, just as a dancer
Might spin for you an exact pirouette
And release themselves in the perfect burst,
A lingering silhouette of energy,
Be content to love,
To dazzle in the light,
If only for moments…
And then be gone,
With gladness in your heart,
Before the creeping shadows
Claim too much your sadness at leaving.
From Meditations
Marks are made.
Despite ourselves
We etch away,
We leave behind.
A few might even dare
To place something
Proudly on the landscape,
Just for its own sake,
Or so that afterwards
They might be spoken of
By strangers.
But, either way,
It matters not.
For when our souls
Are open
Connections occur.
And perhaps
There is a clue here,
A hint
Of something more fluid,
More oceanic.
A fugue state
That makes more sense
Of all this?
Our pattern, our purpose,
Our struggle to be serene…
From Meditations
Graced with the chance to be here,
Even if only fleetingly,
Embrace whatever comes your way
And, in so doing,
However enchanting
Any treasures you uncover
Might be,
Their loss should never be your concern.
In this matter
Make your heart your queen
And follow her as faithfully
And bravely as you are able.
Just as swelling fruit
Hurries towards its own sweetness,
Shine whilst you can,
Without fear.
For nothing is as inevitable
As it seems here.
No, not even the fissures
Of loss and decay
We are oft led to expect
In this temporal world.
For whilst we fuss and fudge
The lines we are given,
Above, below and all around us,
Lingers the energy of countless others
Who already know for sure
That, just as it was long, long ago,
When they first found themselves
Enraptured,
So it is for them, again and again…
And now with only a dark empty hollow,
A feeble space of earth left in between.
Such is true joy’s absolute certainty,
Its slow lit fuse that burns holes
In the shabby shroud of death forever.
From Angel Voices
The day is done
And no one is immune,
It’s true.
That sense of a voyage
Slips seamlessly past,
For there is a finite beginning
And end to everything.
And yet a sense of connection,
A bejewelled purpose too,
Like the child
Whose way ahead
You’ve already lit,
Or the lover you’ve yet to meet.
Many such moments
Come and go, as they must,
Melting away
Into the space we are given.
But what endures for me
Is a persistent resonance,
Some heady wish
For access again
To a sense of wonder
In the stream of things,
That, this time round,
It might just be possible
To keep in my heart
A little longer.
So tarry with me awhile
And we will see
What we can do
To tenderly explore
Beneath the frail shell
Of all we’ve since become.
Trusting that, maybe within
Such smoothly sculpted casing,
And still delicately enclosed,
Might just lie the silky lustre
Of some lavish
And joyful communion,
Waiting for its chance
To grip and catch the light again.
From Angel Voices
Lost puppies
We are no longer,
That’s for sure…
Since all that’s been and gone
And the very essence of you,
Left behind in so many hearts,
Is never forgotten.
And, on a day such as this,
When your world is calm,
Full of warm smiles,
And your soul is at last
Let off its string,
One cannot help but sense,
For certain,
That all the love inside you
Comes from the best of those
You’ve known and loved
And those who came
And went before you too…
Sweet darlings! Sweet youth!
All our hope and dreams
Derive from just that.
So, show me the wonder
Of all you’ve seen so far,
Stretch the day to its limit,
And let us have no guilt
Left to waste for dreaming still.
From Angel Voices
A need for connection,
Attachment.
Drawn in, enchanted by
Resonances with nature
And the kinship of others,
With beauty
Forged by heart’s endeavour.
And so should we
Always aspire to polish
Such precious attainment
With love.
A blessed friction of sorts
That allows us
To birth our night into day
And bathe it clean,
So that beloved things can glow
Together in a litter of light.
From Angel Voices
Life collects,
Pools around you.
It paints its highlights.
Nothing there
You can destroy
Or begin again.
Calm in aquamarine beauty,
Barely a hint
Of surf’s snowy trim.
Today the sea is out
But will come again.
For the moment,
On the beach,
My love and I,
Naked and blissful
As can be.
In the soft,
Sun baked sand
History
Between our toes.
Sense how
Even the smooth stones
Ache
With stories of their own
In the shuddering
Light of day.
From Angel Voices
Needing love,
We squeeze what we can
From a fluid landscape
Of life and light,
Gifted to us
But for a moment
In the scheme of things.
Hope glistens,
Daring us to do
So much more.
And, at our best,
When least distracted
By the petty cares
Of the day,
We hunger for a constant,
To find a flow,
A warm, healing current
We can swim within.
One soul’s journey
In search of a tipping point.
The possibility of honour,
The chance of grace in our lives.
From Angel Voices
Here I am,
As if to confound myself,
Just as I ever was.
Seemingly little more
Than an excited dervish,
Forever chasing shadows,
Knowing that,
Come what may,
Beauty will continue
To throng around me,
Till I am no more.
What was it I never told you?
For isn’t it true that,
Without fear,
We are capable of anything…
The smell of fresh rain,
Like gunpowder on the lawn,
Embellishes the day,
As the summer rips on.
And we can but wonder
As, flawless,
Early morning moisture,
Stranded on a leaf,
Glints in the sunshine.
The world watches
And waits for us, it seems…
As if to suggest tis best
To have an unquiet response
To the nature of things.
So drink deep of your sorrows,
Drink deep of your joy
And then love
And live restlessly
For as long
As the charged ache
In your spirit allows.
From Threads
Despite what we imagine
In our sometime pain,
Beset
Either by aching anticipation
Or subsequent loss,
Lovers are never found by chance.
So tell that to the trees,
Who’ve seen it all
Countless times before.
And can only stand apart
In the meadow of life
And wait
For us to dream again.
Like some broken hearted waif
On a grimy street,
For whom only the predatory
Are likely to stop.
For not even fool’s comfort
Can cling on there
To inhibit notes of caution
That would otherwise
Trim our wings,
Spoil any such dividend.
And so much more too!
Seems like
We always had this coming…
Our needs, till met,
Like rising sap,
Like clotted pollen in the air.
As it always is
In beauty’s sweet surrender,
Desire is the irresistible pull
That draws us steadily
Onto one another
And then fruits.
You were in me all along.
From Threads
There is an intricate chain
At work here,
From one fleeting moment
Of grace to another.
A myriad of links,
Far too long and interlaced,
Even within one
Tentative soul’s journey,
To fathom.
And so the challenge
Is a simple one,
To keep bringing light to bear.
And to do so
With all the good faith
One can muster,
Till some chinks appear.
A fateful knock at your door
That will surely come again.
And the choice then
Will always be a stark one,
Between surrender of sorts,
Or recourse to hollow dreams,
Long since eclipsed by time.
Our conjoined instincts,
Like sexual fire,
Come and go.
But that’s the way of things.
Forever in the background
A persistent, elemental energy
That didn’t ask to be here,
Just is…
And when it bursts forth
Tis a wonderfully furious thing.
From Threads
As we toil and spin,
Pause and gather yourself
In the stillness,
Whenever you are able.
Trusting that,
Time after time,
This might bind ever deeper
In your soul
And, one day,
Come gloriously to bear.
Otherwise how vain
A deceit
Is such constant distraction,
That leaks into everything
To spoil our chances.
And, in so doing,
Look how we fashion instead
A raw and unnecessarily restless
Sadness in our hearts.
For it is what it is,
This life,
No more and no less…
And everyday
It shines upon us
With a patience
That is inestimable.
So take heart from this
And simply surrender in moments,
As best you can.
Even if only in modest ripples
That gently caress
The shore of your dreams.
From Threads
Always stay loyal
To that which feeds your soul,
Knowing, as mortal entities,
We can never go any higher
Than when we nourish
A little of God in ourselves.
Like a thin seam
Of silvered mineral within
There’s a hint of divinity here,
Some mystical suffused essence
That stays charged,
As if in the flow
Of an endless crystal stream,
Till our own sparking current fails…
This being so,
As our own life’s energies
Leak steadily away,
Every step we take
Is interlaced with goodness,
But that we knew it.
For deep, deep down
In the very wellhead of life,
Far beyond melancholy and despair,
Where real sweetness dwells,
There is an ever abundant
Reservoir of light
To be drawn upon by angels.
Fuel for a gathering readiness
That looks to ensure
We will be more than content,
When the time comes,
To simply surrender all we are.
And, in doing so,
Give sap,
Some shape, some form
To the many blossoms still to come.
From Threads
Whenever you can conjure
The stillness to notice,
There is
A sense of the ancient
Hanging in the air.
A lingering spiritual fragrance,
Full of knowing,
That dresses
Contemporary journeys
Like ours.
And always set against
Such a broad tapestry,
Long woven too
With telling details
That confirm who we are,
Albeit still as raw
And naive as any infant.
All the more so
When stood, toe to toe,
With the luminosity
Of days gone by.
And embarking,
As best we can,
On the benevolent
Opportunity
Of one thin slice
Of a chosen life,
However glorious,
Or loaded with pathos
This eventually becomes.
No chance of tragedy
Here though!
For we truly are,
As we come to recognise
Ourselves to be,
Mere receptacles.
Gilded chariots
That our spirits ride out,
But for a hallowed moment in time.
The merest splash of presence
In the serried halls of wonder.
From Threads
Treasured energies
Can evaporate like steam,
When hot meets cold…
And so, my hands
Are gathered together
Before me,
As if to hold
What is precious within.
To make of myself
Sweet sanctuary,
Sensing
What inspired quivers
Remain
Still seem
Too beautiful to die.
Slip away though
They must.
But for nought,
Have I whispered
To my past,
Can I begin again?
For such is the illusion.
Nothing is ever
Ours to keep,
Rather only to glory in
For a while,
Nourished
By brilliant residues,
Till blest again.
This then our lot…
As, step by step,
Faith accrues.
From Threads
Disturbed as we are
By greed and vanity,
All the while
There is so much else
Here for us,
An abundance of triggers
Into both light and depth.
Far beyond
The gentle balm of faith
And the comfort that brings,
A huge and unimaginable love,
An iridescent vignette
Of sheer beauty.
And, slowly but surely,
We are being pulled in,
As one episode
Follows another
On our transit.
Gradually becoming wedded
To something,
The purple light of divinity
That we call God.
As, step by step,
In trying to understand love,
We become fearless.
Bold fires
Within us now
The run of many waters
Cannot quench.
From Threads
The heavy weight of history
Directly abuts
The promise of tomorrow.
Come what may though,
Even spears, as they will…
I cannot help
But be laid bare.
For mine’s a quest,
As yet unabandoned,
To be pure.
And all the while,
Being led that way too,
While the rarest of promises
Still cavort in my soul.
Just as it was at
The very beginning,
Whether pierced by joy
Or fear,
My own wounds to date
Focal points of emotion,
Now glowing red raw again.
Enduring transmissions,
Without which
One would surely have to
Start over again,
Without any narrative of hope,
Nor glimpse of heaven
Or twist of pain.
From Threads
If you listen carefully
There’s a constant purr
In your soul,
With ambitions
Of provoking a response,
Akin to a mother
Forever nudging
Her fledglings forward
Into the light.
And this is reassuring,
As it’s meant to be,
Putting the lie
To insignificance
Being the essence
Of our existence,
When the truth
Is quite to the contrary.
All this a gift
Easy to accept,
When such benevolence
Holds so steady,
Just waiting to be noticed.
Like the soft sigh
Of a tender young tree
In the gentlest
Of summer breezes.
From Pranic Poetry
A sheen, a glow,
A charisma of sorts.
All we’ve come to know,
To touch the essence of,
Leaving behind a memory,
A presence of its own.
Energies
That eventually settle,
Coming to rest somehow
In the very fabric
Of who we are.
I see this so clearly
In the eyes of others.
Every moment
That has gone before
Bringing us here,
My friend.
And yet with so much
Still left to absorb.
Joy and pain
Spread so evenly
Along time’s heavy arch.
From Pranic Poetry
To live a little
You have to die a little,
So says the angel’s
Enigmatic smile.
Never was the need
For any anvil of angst
Upon which
To crack open
The coded chronicles
Of such a pointed
Lifetime dilemma.
Till then, limited
By such dominant
Conviction
That fears the end so.
And such
Are all our hopes,
Freer now to flower
Brighter still
When no longer clad thus.
Every true passion
Shared since
Speaking so clearly to this,
The resolute onward journey
Of our soul.
From Pranic Poetry
We are all prophets
Of our own existence
Are we not?
And come what may,
Tis always
Such noble ambition
To leave telling traces
Of ourselves
Wherever we can.
Thus do all our lives
Become
An enduring tapestry
Of pointed moments,
Albeit seeded with loss,
The ache of which will pass
Whilst such sweet emotion
Remains.
See how potently
That narrative runs on!
And to guide us on our way,
Amidst the endless sway
Of needs and desire,
Delicate patterns made,
Filigrees of real meaning.
The absolute truth
Of raw emotions
Etched on our heart,
Left behind,
Radiant,
As pathways to tomorrow.
From Pranic Poetry
An old view
Seen anew.
Lost
In morning perfection,
The illusion
Peacefulness
Improves everything,
When fervour’s a resource
Used all too sparingly
And there’s
So much wonder
Out there
To even ruffle the surface of.
How often
Do we turn away though?
Timid, as we are.
And without such sparks
Time can pass by,
Like an empty whisper,
Meaningless and negligent.
Till, all at once,
There you have it,
Pulsing within you,
The day of days!
Whatever else
Might come your way,
This you will always know.
Never rewarded thus
Unless you sing so.
From Pranic Poetry
In a world
That is far from certain,
This is for all lovers
Still to set forth,
Or imagining
They’ve yet to arrive.
This fitful journey
Of ours
No sideshow,
Albeit part
Of an ingenious conceit
That draws us tenderly
Towards the light,
Where chances
Can be so sweet
And every joyous release
Cannot help
But seed another.
So here it is!
And there
It ever was too,
Oh, but we knew it then.
Such sublime mapping,
The code of tomorrow
Already built into
All our yesterdays.
From Pranic Poetry
I think your website is excellently presented, with pictures and poetry combination very suitable for style you are trying to portray. I wish you well Scott and continued success in your writing.
Regards G.J.Williams
We did some poetry in English and I think every one did really well. I hope you all had as much fun as I did reading this. It’s really fun.
It seems you and I write about the mind. I enjoyed all your poems and related to the varied themes, from gloom and doom to joy and optimism. Great lines. A pleasure to read.
Very Very Deep… As It has to be.
Your post Writing is really well written and insightful. Glad I found your website, warm regards!
I want to say that your poems indicate a keen sense of
awareness of self and surrounding and speaks so gently to the reader
and inspires trust.
Your website is beautiful. I enjoyed reading your poetry available here and will make comments.
Thank you, Scott for your beautiful work that definitely inspires me!
God bless you, Scott! Your poems are more than great.
How nice, Scott,
I feel that it is your true feeling: “I am looking to speak to your soul”
How does one man make so much beauty? Scott Hastie is amazing…
Such marvellous writing. Scott Hastie is truly extraordinary!
Hi Scott,
I’m Harper, curator of http://www.re-romance.com I’ve visited your site and enjoyed what I saw and read. I’m looking for quotes from writers like you who are passionate about their craft, wordsmiths who have a love affair with the written word and explore their passion.
Wonderful work. I love your webpage.
Thank you Scott Hastie! You are quite a poet and I enjoyed visiting your beautiful site.
Your poetry hit something inside me few things can reach. Brutal Truth and Nature have a way of doing that. Bravo and thank you, Artist. Beautiful.
“Coldness quite suddenly
Has its own specific and final smell,” … Marvellous!
Lovely. And also intriguing…..
Beautiful images and moving words, thank you for sharing your talent and inspiration.
Awesome my friend.
This is some very authentic, earthy poetry. I like it a lot!
Sylvie riverscribbles.wordpress.com
Hi Scott Hope the New Year is treating you well and it inspires you to do more of your beautiful writing!
Very sensitive creativity full of pathos, pain and ambivalent with ecstasy…. Scott, There is profoundness in your work. Please keep up the good work!
This is absolutely amazing! Someone who is very close to nature and can easily interpret all subtle things in it; with delicacy and style, emotional care and finest understanding with his clean carefree heart.
All the best Scott!
Your heart and soul are full with colorful, beautiful words. Like a garden being tended with love. You choose just the right ones and arrange them into a boquet that all can enjoy. Your arrangement leaves a lasting fregrance lingering in my soul.
I enjoyed your pastoral writings, which have a soothing effect.
Jon
Scott, I most admire the intermingling of contemporary and classic. You are quite unparalleled there. You are very modern and edgy but have so beautifully tempered and refined it with your blissful eloquence and undaunting honesty. It makes for a very unique and interesting voice.
Well done again and again!!
I love the photograph of the trees and your poetry too. In fact I think it is a marvellous site.
I enjoyed your gallery and your poems. They all reflect good taste, good feelings. Mindful people like you, I am sure, will contribute meaningful things to the world.
Good day Scott, This is Daniel and I just wanted to let you know that I love where you coming from, even more I love where you’re going with it, you’re writing is wonderful within itself… I will be reading more, as my time allows.
Just wanted to say your poetry is superb. I would love to write a recommendation of how much I like your poetry and appreciate the opportunity to experience your work. It would be an honor to support your work.
Hi Scott,
I was able to peruse your site and it looks lovely. Are the photos ones you took? I do not want to assume, but in any event, they are beautiful. I also read some of your pieces and found them interesting and very accessible.
Dear Scott It would be lovely to see you in person one day and talk to you. You are an amazing person with such intensity and depth. I am sure your poetry works wonders on your readers. In spite of all the pressure, to produce such beautiful poetry is itself a task. Shows remarkable capacity for tranquility. In Indian philosophy we often put emphasis on detachment, as in American transcendentalism of Emerson and Thoreau. For any creative endeavor it is important “to be in the world but not of it”. Not many achieve it but you absolutely educe this virtue of age old wisdom.
I am working as an Assistant Professor of English Literature at a College in Mysore and working on my Thesis “Postmodernist Narratives in the Poetry of George Bowering and Frank Davy”. I have already written a dissertation on Canadian-Jewish poet A.M. Klein.
Just being in the present gives us solace and solitude. It reminds me of Keats’s words on negative capability “when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason” Your poems gives me enormous inspiration and in fact act as a catharsis to unshackle me. You are awesome and awe-inspiring.
Thank you, your work is very beautiful and inspiring.
Thank you for sharing your beautiful website and poetry. Your poetry speaks to my heart, as I am deepening spiritually and reaching within to do the work that I feel I need to do.
I look forward to reading more of your work and commenting.
Stephanie
Thank you for the inspiration!
These poems are lovely and have a sense of meter, (which is the dance of life) and quality. It is important to make art and at the same time have meaning. Scott’s poetry (and photographs as well) do both these things. They are a joy to read. I mean this sincerely since so much of what I read these days is fake poetry (no structure at all). I look forward to reading more.
‘THE GIFT’
for Scott Hastie
by T.J. Sally 9/4/13
You have been a spirit
Which has blown across
The vast divide
So flawlessly often
Your words have Gifted
Soothed, gave joy
Tears cried.
Its Great Mr Scott
Your words are inspiring…
I love them really
ASHOK ADITYA
I like your poems. They are absolutely great! No doubt about it. I visit your website quite a few times every week.
Each piece i study is just like a journey, like am taking a gentle walk across a country side to observe nature and give life to imagination!! Worth the time!
I’ve read some of your writing and just wanted to tell you that you’re truly inspiring 🙂 I’ve had a thing for poetry for as long as I can remember, and now that i’m growing spiritually and finding “truth” poetry I am just so happy! lol
Some lovely poetry here. I like your similes and word usage. Some of the poems flow beautifully, like a waterfall splashing into a calm lake. Awesome!!
I love your poetry and photographs! You have a deep and enquiring mind, and I like that!
I am very impressed with your fine work! You have a unique, trademark style that only true poets possess. I like it very much, and find that it bestows a calming effect. I suspect you have a true calling in this area, and you are very capably fulfilling it!
It’s not a wonder why you have such a following;your work is beautiful. I especially like the earthy nature of your poems. Spectacular!
loved the reality of the Autumn day… i’ll not look at a rose in the same way
Acrostic poem for Scott:
“Soulful creator of verse
Constant dreamer
Of eternal bliss
Treasured heart
To heal this world!”
I’m really happy and lucky to be friend with a adorable writer like you
Beautiful verse, keep it up
Right on Scott. Really like the poetry.
I love your work I’m so glad and grateful
to know you Scott.
“Words of The Divine waiting 4 YOU HERE……………………….YOU WILL THINK AND FEEL AS YOU NEVER HAVE BEFORE…”
Scott’s poems are so lovely and inspiring!
I will be sure to set aside time to read some of your poems tomorrow. After a quick glance I see that your poems are truly beautiful! Thank you,
Beautiful poems and website! Thank you
Your poetry is inspiring and your website stunning.
Your website is great…
Your photos are wonderful which you have taken travelling the world. I enjoyed your poetry also! Thank you for sharing!!
Wow!Your poems are simple yet deep in their meaning.
Your writing brought me to tears. Yes, I am a ‘feeler’ ha ha as most of us poets are yet something about your words, your essence not only captures my heart but leaves me pondering questions I am not sure what of. Thank you for sharing your words with the world, you truly inspire people around the world while leaving them with a sense of peace within.
Again, thank you for sharing pieces of your spirit with the world.
This literary space has become a treasured sanctuary for me Scott. I cherish your thought processeses, exploration and discovery of and through life. Such a tender, knowing voice you breath into your work.
Were the lines not quite sufficient to fully engage (what??), the expressions here about your work from so many ardent readers tells the story, their story of what your words do for them individually, and collectively. Marvelous.
Powerful imagery and insight. Your work reads with a refreshing ease, and genuinely tugs at my heart strings. I’m inspired, I’ll take a look at tons more of your work tomorrow.
Your poems offer something that has become too rare in poetry – the earnest urge to feel and converse, and to share experiences in common. It conveys a passion and accomplishment with language while both attending and departing from tradition. Atop all of that, you are an engaging and convivial ambassador of poetry.
Amazing, dear – Your work is mind blowing
Beautiful thoughts in your poetry, Scott! Especially, the line about leaving our best selves in each other…
Your poems are perfect to read in moments of quietude. They help me to connect my inner dots.
I love your poetry because “They have magic and passion. They are full of depth and meaning. They are of high standard. There are some poetry for children, some poetry for young and some poetry for wise men. Your poetry is meant for wise men. Your poetry is not easy to understand, one needs maturity, experience and wisdom to understand your works. That’s why I said, “your poetry attracts wise audience”.
I enjoyed your poetry.
Scott, you poems are great and amazing I enjoyed a lot, even wrote out some stanzas or lines. Such sweet and smooth emotion!
Your poems have not conquered my heart only, they have conquered the hearts of so many other readers too. They are truly beautiful and fragrant.