Woke up this morning with both an urge to write something and a case of writer's block... which is just bloody evil, if you ask me. Anyway, this terrible excuse for writing is what I came up with. It's nearly Christmas... I trust you'll forgive me :o)
A Poem For Poetry’s Sake.
Just a string of words
Pressed into page with random calculation.
There’s no meaning here,
No hidden depths or philosophical interpretation,
It wasn’t even meant to rhyme –
It just sort of happened when the words ran out.
I feel like that sometimes.
There’s no imagery,
Just letters of the alphabet in a certain order –
Like heavy red bricks
That have no concept of the building they form,
A house, a home, a church, a morgue,
A hospital, a prison, a factory, a wall...
No message implied, no point to make,
If this is a poem, it’s for poetry’s sake.
I just feel like that sometimes.
2 comments:
It certainly does my heart good to see you posting again. I'm sure we've all missed your work and your company.
As to the poem, well you absolutely have to stop claiming that you're not a poet. All of your poems that I have seen so far make your claim rather insincere. :) Even when you're being humorous, you are a damn fine poet.
Anyway, if this is the sort of thing you come up with when you have writer's block, I really have no sympathy for you. LOL With only the smallest effort, I fooled around with this to show you what you could do with it if you had any serious intentions toward your poems. I'm feeling empathy for your poetry and a tad resentful on their behalf. :P
Brickwork
Just a string of words pressed
onto paper with only coincidental
calculation. There’s no meaning
here, no hidden depths
or philosophical interpretation,
no rhyme intended–though rhyme
may happen when words
dangle across an empty page.
I just feel like that sometimes.
Just letters of alphabet laid
in courses–like heavy red bricks
in a face-work of phonemes
that have no concept
of the building they form,
house, home, church, morgue,
hospital, prison, factory, or wall.
No message implied, no point to make,
if this is a poem, it’s for poetry’s sake.
I just feel like that sometimes.
Welcome back, my friend.
But is that not how a poems comes to be. Starting without a thought yet you're down on your knees begging her please.. And she gushes all over your fingers like a wet dream of happiness
And hey pb sorry got lost on my way here
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