I’ve never mastered poetry,
though I’ve written hundreds.
The keys click, click again
like a street mime pushing,
pushing, pushing the wall
and then some more.
There’s resolution,
even initial satisfaction, but
the wall is still there, and
the stones of the last poem
turn to dust and blow away.
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20 comments:
YES!!!! I know how that is...Very well said! Absolutely wonderful work!! :o)
I do understand that last verse oh so well.
Your poetry though is unique - I so enjoy coming here :)
Ah, but they are etched in the Google archives forever... digital dust?
i think most of us, relate to your poem. although very few could do a better job, you mastered this poem.
"I’ve never mastered poetry"? Who do you think you're kidding! :)
(I know how you feel, though. I've often felt the same about me...)
I love your image of the street mime pushing the wall.
Very graceful visuals here, Pat, which only a true poet could create! Glad to be back and reading your work again. And I do know what you mean. I think we all feel this at times.
What Mr. Lockhart sez.
Well done, it's nice to be able to catch a morsel or two from you each month
....the stones of the last poem
turn to dust and blow away...this is good.
I feel your words...so well said....
Who of us has tamed the beast, truly "mastered" what is larger than us? Semantics...striving...reaching...perfecting The creative challenge, as in any art form, is in the process and that magnetic journey to continue to write "like a street mime pushing, pushing, pushing the wall."
I have always enjoyed your unique poetry to the max!
(BTW, this is "Gel" of Emerald Eyes: note new name and blog).
you mix up the commonplance with the wise and serve it up warm and wonderful.
its the last verse which says it all.
Pushing the wall so the stones blow away more forcefully?
But I always felt the last verse happening, Pat. Unique poetic sense, as Janice said..
I just have a stone thrown and blown back on me..
First two blogs updated..the first touchs the US..so would love your view and review...Please do come when you get time.
btw, hope you remember me..You once came over...and made my day!
Pat,
I would say you have matered this wonderful art.This poem was perfect. It had a beginning, middle, and end. Not to mention it made me want to read more of your writtend works.
softlove,
T
This is cool! I'm coming back for more..
The way I see it, Pat--it's the adventure of pushing the wall that is so satisfying about writing poetry--and seeing it move to your touch!
What would life be if the wall came down? Empty, I think.
By the way--hope you are well, just busy--hurry back!
Chaucer: "the life so short, the craft so long to learn (The lyf so short, the craft so longe to lerne)"
This may go back to Hippocrates.
Where are you? We miss you.
Enjoyed your poetry over at the Concelebratory Shoehorn Review. Bravo.
Where oh where are you Pat. I wish to drink your words once again. I hope all is well.
Soft love,
T
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