Showing posts from September, 2015

Imitation is the Purest Form of Flattery

Something has been said about  "writing down the bones" which sounds like a good practice if you're learning anatomy. But the first time I heard the phrase, I thought it was  "writing down the poems," So I am. Writing down the poems
moving my bones,  the ligaments lightly holding the pen-- black on paper, blue, too, re-living the washing of water by their words, like taking a bath in beauty that leaves me breathless.
If I bathe with this cleansing flood, soak in the senses, sounds of someone else's heart in my soul, I'm sure the echo will ring out true on the other side-- wash and rinse cycle of syllables, leaving a residue  of beauty, grace, truth pouring out on this side of eternity with my pen, writing down the poems. ~~~~~~~~ It has been said if you want to BE a good poet,  you should READ some great poetry,  so I've been soaking (and scribing) Gerard Manley Hopkins  and George Herbert glorious wordsmiths of earth and eternity. You should read 'e…

I Meant to Thank You**

I thought I had tomorrow-
more than one, like petals
from an infinite flower
held in my hand.
I thought I had tomorrow
foolishly thinking the chances
would arise in infinite number
rolling in like waves
again and again on the shore.
But the words-writ at my feet,
stayed there, washing away
like silken sand,
crumbling in liquid lines--
the words I never said.
I meant to say "Thank you."

This poem is from a line prompt in The Mischief Cafe, a traveling sort of poetry party book published by Tweetspeak Poetry.  If you're shy about writing poetry, The Mischief Cafe is a good place to start.