Saturday, January 19, 2008

When The Well Is Dry

What’s the point of writing, just to write?
The well is dry, there’s no words left
hiding in the mortared walls of my creativity.
I look at the snow, snow we rarely get,
and see just that, instead, of an invasion
of white hedonistic flies procreating on dead grass;
eventually, leaving the slush of their sin
to stain our soles going out for the mail.
I drop my thoughts down the dark shaft,
again and again, hoping for lines to fill
the empty strapped slats of a page.

18 comments:

Richard Kay said...

Judging by this piece, all is not lost.

Margie said...

I agree very much with Richard!
You filled this page very nicely with your creativity, as you always do so!
Excellent write, Pat!

Margie

Masago said...

These 11 self-referential lines portray hope with the paint of despair. Well done!

boulies said...

Well there you go! You just threw together one hell of a great poem there Pat. Your mortared wall are looking pretty colorful to me.

It's always a pleasure to read your work. Don't ever put it away. Please!

sage said...

another classic--I'm not sure I'll look at snow the same this winter... enjoy it while it last

J. Andrew Lockhart said...

oh but you still have it! :)
so good to see more.

floots said...

the others have already said it
you have produced writing from not-writing
nice one

Pris said...

Your well is never dry, Pat! Sometimes the pump just needs an extra push, like you did right here!:-)

Don Iannone said...

Sounds like fresh water to me. Drawn no less from what was thought to be a dry well. Amazing how that happens. Pat, the well is never dry. We are only without a bucket to capture what it holds. Best wishes to you and enjoy your snow.

firebird said...

As long as you have your imagination, as obviously you are quite blessed with, the well will never run dry--
dark, maybe, but that's only temporary...besides, it's the light wells that are dry--the dark ones stay damp!
(Thanks for the comment on my blog--I'll try to comply in short order!

gulnaz said...

i second richard kay's comment, word by word!

you write excellently and this captures the despair so perfectly!

gulnaz said...

i second richard kay's comment, word by word!

you write excellently and this captures the despair so perfectly!

Rethabile said...

It happens to the best of us, and you're the most productive among those. Scary thought, though.

polona said...

judging by this poem, there's plenty left in the well!
a WOW, no doubt!

jel said...

hi there!

I felt that way about taking pictures, but it came back!

winter time when all need a rest, till spring, when all comes back to life, as to your thinking well shall refill :)

Queen Neetee said...

Shhh...can you hear that? It's a tapping kind of noise. It sounds like...like...wait, is that the sound of your fingers on the keyboard?

Pat, I think everything is okay. I just read what you wrote and it was ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL!

NINANINA said...

there is hope in art! love your metaphor...that is art in itself!

Inconsequential said...

lol