Photo by woodleywonderworks
At some point in my life I fell into the habit of introducing myself as a poet. My opening line was always “Hi, I'm Michael; and I'm a poet.”
Without fail 96.32% of the time the response would be “I used to write poetry as well, but I grew out of it.” The other 3.68% would probably snicker and point (at 6'2″ I don't exactly fit the stereotype of lit–geek). I find this strange because I rather enjoy poetry, immensely if I dare add.
So I started to wonder, how can you make sure you never “grow out of” poetry? Here's what I came up with:
1. Listen to Your Muse
Nothing is more important that listening to the voices in your head. Treat them with respect. Even when they have nothing to say listen to them anyway. Sometimes a poem will be born of a single line one week that has no relevance until coupled with another line eight weeks later. Get used to that.
2. Feed Your Muse
Read.
When asked about writing, I reply, reading is to writing as eating is to going to the bathroom. In other words, writing is a by product of your reading. It is how your muse burns off excess calories from the food you feed it. So gobble up as many poems as you can.
3. Write
A friend of mine says that there is no such thing as writer's block, the only thing that exists is a temporary lack of confidence. So write, write, write and when you are done with that write some more. Remember practice makes perfect.
4. Bask
Whenever you write something that you are genuinely proud of take a second or two to sit back and enjoy the moment. Think of that moment as equivalent to the much needed family vacation at the end of the year. Sit back and enjoy your art, then pick up a book.
Most of all though in poetry you must remember, there is no such thing as a wrong answer. Maya Angelou said, “A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.”
You have a poem, write it.
PRACTICE
Write a poem.
Just 10 or so lines. But bask in it.
When you're finished, post your poem in the comments section. And if you post, please be sure to give feedback to a few other writers.
Have fun!
I’ve been using this blog for a while now and i’d like to say that
it’s a really valuable tool!!!
Thanks DM!!!
[the recent violence that’s spread throughout the world inspired this poem… please forgive me if their is anything offensive ( because I tried my level best not to insult anyone in any way… ) and I hope you like it : ]
A little film by a crook, a thief
causes a flurry of rage.
To save the pride of a holy
man has turned savage.
A world understood by few
but for many an object of hate.
Bombs ripping market place
men cursing their fate.
The guards are up; smiles upside down
demagogues leading mobs.
Mothers clutching their babes tight
the rulers are distraught.
Faith has shrouded the fate of men
in darkness; speech’s freedom exploited.
But justice rests in good hands
so wrong will be righted.
Wow, that’s a really good picture of what’s going on in the world. I think everybody realises it’s terrible, but we never think about how terrible it must be to inside it all. The only thing I’d say is that the lack of rhyming in the 3rd stanza throws it off a bit, but maybe that was your intention, I don’t know?
Anyway, really interesting take.
thanks for reading… by the 3rd stanza my feelings were pouring out uncontrollably, so whatever came with the flow came onto the page…
This poem is really good. It helps people open their eyes at just how terrible things are.
thanks
:))
Beautifully worded and horribly true.
thanks…
yes i agree with all here… i am wondering how u felt after u wrote this … it seems like a very healing peace to me in a lot of ways to look at the truth head on and write beautiful words about it …
um… thank you… truthfully, i don’t take violence well so the upheaval worldwide caused something to stir within and the only thing i could do to heal the wounds inside was to write… so answering your question… yes, it felt like lifting the pressure of the world off my shoulders (kind of like Atlas)!!
I like this. It’s kind of vague but menacing at the same time. I assume it has to do with the movie that insulted Mohammed but it could be about so many demagogues, politicians, power mongers.
yep… it could, but it’s primarily about the film… thanks for reading!!
Please don’t take offence but between this piece and Alias, I “got” Alias’ more. This one seems to have too many words for me, and hence I got myself stuck in theory instead of feeling.
now that I have read the other piece… well, what do you know, it does feel better than mine!!
Thanks for this post. I’ve just begun writing poetry again after a many year break so this is timely for me. Here’s the most recent one:
Waves crash in
grabbing at the sand,
unable to remain.
Sound rises up from the unseen shore.
Turbulence bringing peace and tranquility through the night air
http://larryfarlow.com/2012/09/27/listening-to-the-waves-at-night/
Here’s my own poem.
A little different point of view to Ernest’s,
——————————-Imperialism spreads,
A film’s not the Only cause,
Of Blood lust, rage,
Death.
Disrespectful men Thrive,
Like Mice in Sewers,
Decorated with Own LiEs.
Politicians Sip Wine,
Happily,
Glasses polluted with Blood of Fallen.
Just a slightly different view! I love the way you used capitals to accent some of the words.
I agree with Charlotte. The way you capitalized certain words is a really good way to accent it! 😀
Very topical.
this is really good!! kudos on the capitalized words 🙂
Thank you everyone! 🙂
I appreciate your responses… Like Ernest, I had also let my feelings guide my words.
I appreciate your thoughts to my capitalized words… I did not know what you would think of the capitalized letters.
Thanks again! 😀
(This is just something that was literally created through continuing the 1st line, which simply popped into my head – aka, who knows what it means. Enjoy (hopefully!))
As ever, his words turned to dust.
I listened to them, and they meant nothing
But a past that I never thought of anymore,
Never wished to re-live.
As ever, his eyes were empty.
I looked at them, and they meant nothing
But the shell of a person,
A shell that I hated.
As ever, I left him standing out in the rain,
Because he was just a silent ghost.
This is rejection so permanent and complete. It’s really good. I think some of our best stuff comes out when things “pop into our heads” and we follow them a bit.
Haunting theme. No fun when someone in your life is just a phantom presence. I get it.
This is wonderful! I think as writers, whether we are writing poetry or fiction, etc., we need to listen to what shows up and take it where it leads. This obviously led you through some amazing imagery and haunting ideas. Thanks for sharing! I loved this.
Thanks everyone!
This is my practice:
Daydream
I often daydream about life,
About changes I could make,
About stories I would write.
I daydream about the future.
What will become of me in twenty years?
Where will my friends be?
I let my imagination soar so much
That sometimes I stop
Paying attention.
This is a poem I wrote a while ago:
Best Friends
What happened to us?
We used to be best friends.
Do you remember,
When we were younger,
And we gave each other necklaces and gifts.
Now we have drifted apart.
You went your way,
And I took mine.
I took the road less traveled,
While you hurried towards a busy street.
You took off,
Leaving behind,
Nothing.
You left for the so-called ‘popular’ kids.
Not me.
I stood up for what was right,
Even if it meant leaving an old best friend behind.
But then I ask myself,
Were we ever really best friends?
thank you so much for sharing these… i like them all … i also been using this blog for a while and have not writen anything yet … all of u have a lot of courage… i am a private person… and i do concider myself a poet and would love to share .. but a part of me has that well people steal things .. what to do? some day maybe in the mean i want encourage others to keep it up all is good …
themagicviolinist i could relate to the friend poem a lot thanks for the reflection.
Hi Lady! 😀
Thanks so much!
Go for it! Share your writing. If you have a story to tell, tell it. No one has ever been made fun of on this website. Everyone is here for the same thing: To become a better writer. I can guarantee you that people will comment on your writing and give you some advice.
Go for it Ladydmia, just let it out, we are all just trying…
thank you so much Suzie it means a lot to get support
and i know i am no tennyson but … well i need to express myself and maybe i will start a blog 🙂 this is a great site
Ladydmia, I am telling you – the fifteen minutes here every day just gets you writing and writing and you will never stop !!!
hi suzie i wanted to reply below to your comment but it would not let me … wowo that is great to hear … i may follow u … yes this is a wonderful site … and i am sure u r just getting better and better 🙂 d
I found out that sometimes old “friends” do come back eventually and they do remember the “necklaces and gifts” sometimes they remember things that I had forgotten. You are a superlative writer! Do you write all the time?
I write for a big majority of the day. 😉 Every chance I get I sit down at my computer and write.
That’s great. It shows.
now she is gonewe never met, butit hurts to think of herthere are footprints on my heartfrom a journey that had hardly beguna soft haunting melody in my headhopes, dreams and a sense of loneliness—the type that presses down on your shoulders. now she is gonewe never met, butI will always remember her
-in memory of 12-year-old Hailey Ritlaff, who was fatally struck by a car Thursday afternoon-
Last time I tried to post this, the line breaks didn’t show up. Let me try again.
now she is gone
we never met, but
it hurts to think of her
there are footprints on my heart
from a journey that was never made
a soft haunting melody in my head
hopes, dreams
and a sense of loneliness—
the type that presses down on your shoulders.
now she is gone
we never met, but
I will always remember her
-in memory of Hailey Ritlaff-
Hmmm. this makes me think. I wonder who this girl is and how she died? If it is too painful to write directly about, maybe you could channel it into a piece of fiction some time? Good work!
I’m usually way more optimistic than this poem suggests, maybe this was influenced by some of the poems here…
Child of my child,
Little blue eyes
Looking out with wonder and trust.
Heart of my heart,
Hand curled ’round my fingers
How I long to protect that trust.
My promise of future,
You tug on my heart
Yet I eye the future with distrust
As I hope and I pray
Day after day
That it won’t all turn to dust.
dust is where it’s at, Mirelba. Good poem
Thanks!
I know what you’re saying here and I hope and pray with you. Very sad but there is still hope I guess.
Well, I did say I was generally optimistic, but sometimes the optimism slips away for awhile. Then we another one of our conversations with the Lord…
Shame.
Pointed finger with broken nail,
Jagged edge unravels my sweater,
Leaves me naked and exposed.
Desperation.
Broken finger grips fallen yarn
Spinning round and round for cover,
Leaves me dizzy and exhausted.
Vulnerable.
Open fingers clasps helping hand,
Receiving warmth from their nakedness,
Leaves me humble and thankful.
Gratitude.
Dirty fingers serving naked friends,
Offering warmth out of my own struggles
Leaves me joyful and alive.
Shame.
Leaves me.
great Tom
What can I say. That was just plain great Tom. I’m so glad I get to read your stuff. You always make me feel better.
I’ve lost my tongue
More ways than I can count.
I’ve lost my wonder, lost my clout,
lost all feeling, walked benumbed.
Often, I threw away pity, stamped on my love,
hurled words designed to scour and burn.
But I never lost poetry.
Just rested it for a little while.
NIce!
I like this a lot. I like the idea that you never quit “just rested for a little while” . That’s such a worth while thought.
this is powerful … i love it… you really reach down inside of u and came out never loosing anything …
Really love the last two lines, especially!
I love this Marina.
Extremely powerful.
The first line, I’ve lost my tongue, presents such an emotion that
transforms seamlessly into what else is lost.
Good job!
Very pretty, Marianne.
I love the last two lines. This one’s probably my favorite poem from all the great ones posted here.
I was walking past Penneys today and the window was all Chrismassy. It led me here:
gladtidings
memories of Christmas float in the mind
imbibing adults tensions rise
childrenquiver hiding resigned
no one heard incanted cries
presents strewn round un rap
skin wrapped blue and black
sot coma under pine sap
wonderful life
apt soundtrack
Well done. So true, holidays often bring back the best and the worst memories.
Wow Suzie that unwound at the end like Christmas often does. Very well done I think.
this is great … it is interesting where and how we get our inspirations
i like ur spacing also
I, too, apreciate the spacing. It just fits this poem.
This is certainly full of a surprising Christmas memory. The choice of spacing and spelling was very interesting. Would love to hear how you decided on it, or if it was just done based on what felt right?
sot coma?
round un rap?
Please, help me out and let me know what these refer to.
Great piece.
sot coma – drunken stupor
round un rap – there is no round the room present unwrapping or singsong in this house. There will be no presents at all – used as weapons hurled at the antagonist (wife/children)
repetition of singing type words – incant, rap, soundtrack
there is a beat to this poem and there are 3 bars to the spaces when there is one space in a line and 2 bars to the spaces where there are two or more gaps.
The glittering pen lies at the edge of the desk.
The desk is waiting for me to sit,
Sit and write something
Something literate, something elegant
That’s what the new fountain pen wants me to write.
Something wise and mature and benevolent
But I pick up the pencil
That familiar, cheap and childish, graphite and wooden, thing.
Because if I were to write poems they would be pencil poems,
scratchy and real
And maybe not even readable because of erased areas and words misspelt, words tipping on their sides half written and half printed,
Crowded on one line with little tight letters
Loopy and stretched out on the next line
not orderly and measured but uneven and confusing.
They would be more alive for all of that.
My life has been more pencil than fountain pen
I certainly like the pencil poem better than the elegant fountain pen poem!
Thanks Lori
I really liked this!
Here are some of my favorite lines:
Because if I were to write poems they would be pencil poems,
scratchy and real
Loopy and stretched out on the next line
not orderly and measured but uneven and confusing.
life has been more pencil than fountain pen.
Glad you took the time to post your pencil poem on computer. 🙂
Ha Thanks Wendy.
Marianne, totally love this
Thanks Suzie
Absolutely love this, especially the last line. The whole poem has an organic feel. Wonderful.
Thanks Shelly
i am a pencil also i love this poem and your style keep up the good work 🙂
Thanks so much.
Thank you for being vulnerable with us. I think we all have pencil moments/seasons/lifetimes.
Thanks Ben. I think you’re right.
Sorry mine didn’t come out the way I had it formatted and I can’t edit it again for some reason.
Poetry! Poetry! That is a step too far for me! I am in awe of your abilities – lovely, moving stuff.
Flats
You’re standing
in front of the minister.
Still,
except for your right foot
in a strappy white patent leather flat.
As usual, rolling
from upright to outside
scuffing the side wall
This time
I stop myself from saying, “Don’t ruin your shoes.”
Ha I love that!
This is so great! As a mom of two girls, I totally was in this poem. Love how you hint that the girl was fidgety as a young child and that she is now a bride and that you are her mother or father, but I think mother.
Again, really very good!
A lovely view of how mothers don’t let go.
Wonderful imagery in a short piece.
Lori, this is fantastic imagery in a very short piece. Well done
Some things never change! Our kids grow up yet they are still our kids who have the same quirks from childhood. Love this!
Nailed it! Maternal reflexes don’t change, but the children do and sometimes, just sometimes, if we pay attention, we can adapt. I love the “patent leather” detail and the unexpected choice of flats for the (presumed) bride. Not an altogether un-girl woman, in her sort-of Mary Janes….
wow i love this! i saw the title in my inbox and went to my library’s website to put a hold on a poetry collection 🙂 am starting my poetry era next week! <3
Just a fun little rhyming poem…
I caught you kissing Donna Sue
But then again, you’d caught me, too.
For six month we tried to make it work.
But cooped up with you, I went beserk.
Until the note said you were leaving
Then I really started grieving.
“Can’t you stay ‘til the end of the week?”
But you left, and didn’t speak.
Now what am I gonna do?
Without you or Donna Sue?
Today mom sent me back to school.
“Bring in the doctor’s note. That’s the rule.”
Now I’ve got homework, and a Friday test.
Good-bye six months of getting rest.
And Donna Sue won’t kiss me, neither.
Cause she says I caught you from Amy Cleaver.
I reckon she is probably right.
Cause I kissed Amy that same night.
But I feel bad for Donna Sue,
For though she never did catch you.
While I had mononucleosis
Her back came down with scoliosis.
Haha, this made me laugh. Good job Wendy.
Oh, so much fun! 😀 I stink at writing poems that rhyme. They always sound little kiddish. Great job!
wendy this is great, up to this point – –
Now I’ve got homework and a Friday test.
Good-bye six months of getting rest I really liked it, it moved and pounded along but then confusion set in. Me, I know, I am confusion personified. It would work as a shorter piece.
Hmmm. Maybe it was TOO implied that You=Mononucleois? Would you catch that if it ended earlier? It is meant to have a “what’s going on” transition, but certainly don’t want to lose the reader in confusion.
Thanks for your feedback.
this made me laugh! shame, poor Donna Sue! I do agree with Suzie, got a little confusing at the end.
Thanks zo. Would you be able to tell me which parts are confusing so I can try to fix them. If you sunstitute in your head the word Mono for the word You, does it make more sense? Caue it is about him thinking he caught Mono for Donna Sue, then after 6 months of recovering at home the doctor writes a note that the says mono is gone he can go back to school. There Donna Sue says he got Mono from kissing Amy not her. And the end means so while Donna Sue never came down with mono her back has scoliosis.
Could you let me know which parts did not come through? Would love to make it better.
Thank you!
Ha! Now I understand it – I’d thought that it was a guy writing about a girl kissing Donna Sue – that was the ‘you’ I thought, therefore in the beginning it kind of made sense that this was a constricting relationship, but then got really confused at the 4th last stanza, because that obviously wasn’t working. OK, so either I was slow on this poem, which could very well be the case!, or you have to make it more specific – like put a clue in there earlier that ‘you’ is a disease instead of a person. So a sprinkling of more clues in the first stanza or two would help the reader have something to grasp.
She’s walking through
The woods
The woods so thick the moonlight
Is trying to break free from
The branches
The branches twisted and long like
Skeletal fingers
Skeletal fingers of his papa
Seated in his rocking chair
Dying from
The winter cold
The winter cold making her teeth chatter
And her ears ache
Where is she going you ask?
She’s going to see
The woods witch
The woods witch, who the people say,
Has magic
Has magic to cure her dying papa
Her dying papa coughing up
Blood
Blood is what the woods witch want
The people say
The people say it should be a
Virgin
Virgin like her
And so she marches through
The snow
The snow reaching as high as her knee
Through the darkness
Through the woods
She’s walking.
Jb, lush, absolute lush. Love it
Thanks, Suzie 🙂
I like your use of word repetition to give movement to your poem, like one foot in front of another. It gives it a sense of “effort”. Nice.
Thanks! Glad you liked it 🙂
I like the repetition too. It does give it movement like someone tramping through the forest.
Thanks, Marianne! I actually drafted two versions of this poem. I liked this style better 🙂
The repetition absolutely sparkles and moves the poem forward. I really loved the imagery too. It gave me a sense of sadness for the girl, but beautiful at the same time.
Thanks, Trish 🙂
This is great, JB. ‘The woods so thick the moonlight is trying to break free from the branches’ – stunning. Welcome back!!!!!
Thanks, Zoe 🙂
While I was reading the post, I had this image of a girl wading through snow.
I knew immediately it was a poem waiting to be written 🙂
JB-
i feel like the repetition in the piece really adds to the fact that this is a child trying to help her father. it’s almost as if she’s reasoning that “if this, then this” will happen in order to propel her forward to reach her ultimate goal, but without actually knowing the outcome of this mission she’s undertaken.
some questions: who is the witch? is this supposed to be rooted in fairy tale? is there another point of view that this could possible come from?
ok i am submitting something i hope u enjoy
BLOGGING CONNECTION
Communication
Privacy of thought
SHARE
Mom taught you that early on
Cannot hold it inside
Tech part a challenge or not
Will not know until you try
Be patient it is a virtue
BREATHE
Express knowledge
Understanding
Creativity…
… Sense of camaraderie
Work writing muscles
SURPRISE what you will
learn
Very well done. I enjoyed reading this.
thank u marianne, it is my first post on line with something creative
so i reflected on my blogging quirkiness if u will 🙂
MOTHER IS COMING
Mother is coming
Quick-wash the cat
Mother is coming
Quick-Hide everything you don’t want her to know
Mother is coming
Quick-Find every gift she’s ever given you
Mother is coming
Quick-put on your shiny, happy face
Mother is coming
Quick-Oh wait-she’s here.
This is funny and so true.
Thanks. I’m only funny on paper, though
good piece and i hear u tina … 🙂 d
Awesome. I can relate!
Thanks. I think it’s nice of all of us to know that we’re not the only ones that feel like this
Will you be there for me
when I come calling?
Can you predict
when I need you
so I won’t have to call
at all?
Loneliness sits
in an empty chair
and beckons me
to sit and stare.
Tears can’t refill
the hollow heart
I’m left with today.
Will you be there for me
the way I am for you?
Will my silent pleas
for comfort
go drifting on dreams
of dandelion seeds
that float by your window?
Or, will they tumble
unheard,
unkempt,
unnoticed,
unaware,
into dark depths
un
known.
This is lovely and I especially like the last seven lines.
Thank you Marianne!
The line that really hit me is loneliness sitting in an empty chair – sheesh, such a good metaphor.
Thank you Zoe!
very nice tb… it moved me 🙂 d
Thank you 🙂
I was blogging on my Native blog, so thoughts were fresh.
State Fair Indian Day
Beaded costumes
Feathered hair
Twirling dancers
Everywhere
Drums keep beat
Dancing feet
Native songs
Amidst the throngs
in the Indian village
The first line is the title. Not sure why it came out double spaced. I used text-editor.
I really like this the pacing and the rhyme reminds me of a parade for some reason. I picture a parade.
Thank you, Marianne. Actually, the dancers are performing on an outside mound for the crowds.
let us dance 🙂 i love it
Just a little poem about the wonders of childhood:
Kingdom, or in the time of growing
I keep my faith in a jar
like fireflies we used
to catch when we were
young, watching their
bodies blink like
constellations. And
I would think, this
must be what it’s like
to hold heaven, barefoot
in damp grass cold with
night, imagining the
impossibility of
growing up, when biology
came of age, during the
single week the Creator
formed the Universe;
when we were fireflies
and our bodies hummed
electric.
WOW. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS… Beautiful. I’d say look to get this published, it’s so good.
thank you very much!
It really is beautiful!
thank you!
This is one powerful poem, Luke.
I would think, thismust be what it’s liketo hold heaven,
Love that passage 🙂
thanks a lot! i really appreciate the feedback!
Beautiful!
This is beautiful! I love the final idea of buzzing with new energy as new beings. But then bringing it round again to the first thought, faith in a jar, we bottle up our God-given energy, each for our own reasons – shame, pain, pride. What would happen if we took the lid off?
Hi, guys!
I think this is a great blog; I love poetry!
However, I thought I’d share a poem with you in a different way.
The Arabs actually excelled in poetry… and many still do today. It’s a shame that the media excels in causing hate among different nations; instead of showing both the positive and the negative, it only focuses on the negative.
Nonetheless, I’ve decided to do a little something about it 😉
So, here it is– a beautiful, whimsical poem in Arabic.
It is by an arabic poet called abdur rahman ashmawi; the name of the poem is “Ma Al Qamar”. There are English subtitles; the translation is “A Conversation with the Moon”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XySpcRhCfHE&feature=player_embedded
(I would type it, but isn’t poetry to be enjoyed aloud? As it is, translation from Arabic to English takes away the flavor of the words. Plus, rhymes and rhthms are totally lost in translation.)
Very whimsical, and does express my emotions a little better.
Please enjoy, and tell me what you think!
=)
Ugh, guess my mind is full of Alias, today? Heh.
Sorry guys, I’m Alia091, not Alias. :/
Um, I meant that I accidentally named myself alias. Maybe I need a good cup of coffee? Lol.
Anyhoo, today I seemed to be inspired by another poem, and wanted to share!
Sorry if this bothers you; last one, I promise! 😀 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vix0UI9bVN8(Lots of metaphores, BTW. I love its imagery and language, though)Have a FANTASTIC day! 😀
Hi, again, everyone!
The computer— for whatever annoying reason, keeps naming me alias.
Im alia091 in all the comments in this thread
So cool. Thanks for sharing this. Very unique and I love it.
Better late than never, with one or two exceptions, I haven’t written any poetry since I was in my late 20s.
Having pondered over many a blank sheet of paper
And stared at his belly button for hours at a time
The young poet decides to write lines about how
He knows what it’s all about
And how he is hip, like his beatnik heroes,
To the ways of the world.
His black turtleneck chokes him, and he coughs up
The smoke from his Gitanes
And everyone knows that Rolling Rock is the one true alternative
To Budweiser, without being too pretentious
He sits in the corner with his notebook,
And his prescription Ray-Bans,
Scanning the room for those as (in)secure as he is
You dig poetry, babe?
Want to go up to mine for a reading?
(It works on the 99 percent rule…)
What happens when you take the poetry away from the poet?
Homo sapiens to homo etricus to homo facticus
(He also likes making up Latin words, it makes him feel genuine…)
All he is left with is himself
And the need to get a job.
I must say, the first stanza didn’t grab me, but I felt it just got better and better, creating such a strong character which you smash at the end… what a line – ‘All he is left with is himself’ – wow. So for not having done this for a good couple of years, it seems, this is really good!!!
Thanks, Zoe.
I really appreciate the feedback. (It has been a while and it’s always interesting to see what comes out!)
The sun is asleep
darkness arises
Dog wants his evening walk
Keep away from dark corners
and shrubs around buildings
Watch for black and white shape
they are on the loose
waiting to spray those close by
why so many
what draws them to our homes
back home safe this time
waiting for the next dark walk
I love the undercurrent of this, very brooding, esp how you end it. My fav. line – ‘watch for black and white shape/ they are on the loose’!
No-Man’s-Land
Your white war words
won’t work
here:
we meet in the middle.
Fling them back into the outskirts
of the room
for now we stand in the centre of
no-man’s-land.
Pull open the windows
so the breeze can come between us
and whisk away the thoughts we dare
not think.
Zoe-
i like that this poem leaves a lot for us to fill in (who are these people? why are they fighting?) we have to infer what these people mean to each other and maybe even put our own perceptions into the piece.
i wonder what is happening in this space that is occupied by “the thoughts we dare/ not think”? it might be interesting to explore that space and move around in it to see who these people are and how they develop!
Thanks so much, Luke! Good feedback.
Crash, the thoughts collide.
Fingers slide across the keyboard.
Tic tic tic the keys sing a song.
My mind races to find the right words.
The TV. Feet walking the hall.
Voices from the other room caught up in useless chatter.
The sound of the hard drive clatters.
My feet bounce nervously.
Someone coughs, drowning out the TV, but it regains the room.
The building owns me, from 8-4.
This is great – love the sounds and the movement here, wrapped up beautifully in the last line.
Thank you Zoe!
Of spooks and ghosts and hollow things
Does my mind wish it were another day
Another season
Were it not so full of memory
The smells and hidden Sun
Do fly away with me
To days and seasons long since happened
Wringing joy from this dying world
again.
this is very deep … i love the last 2 lines they pull it together
Thanks so much for the feedback!
My garden, favorite haunt of my muse, yielded this one last week:
So many pole beans
dangling, winking, hiding in plain sight.
Brush the leaves askew
and they shudder, potent and urgent
with September.
Let It Go
Sun blazes in the cool
morning while winds buffet
me like harsh voices
strong words filled with
fearful righteousness
I sit to inhale accusations
and judgement
Exhaling peace, contented
calm prevails as the
winds whip and thrash.
Very impressive article. I like it. I will share with my friends.
Great post however , I was wanting to know if you could write a litte more on this topic? I’d be very thankful if you could elaborate a little bit more. Many thanks!
Thanks! What specifically are you interested in hearing more about?
I was a little nervous about reading this much material, but once I got started I couldn’t stop. Thank you for your very interesting article.