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Sitting here, watching water crawl
Folder:
Skipping Stones I've lost the track,
there is no trail,
no way to tame
this tiger's tail,
and so often I see
the flow between
brain and pen
and simply wonder...
just what this means.
I like it. And I don't want
I like it. And I don't want to know your thoughts on this one. I'm glad it is open to interpretation.
Thank you Sir!
Oh what a joyful thing it is
Oh what a joyful thing it is to wonder anythign at all! I often love to wonder as I wander down the hall, what do i write and why then how? and what exactly brought it into being, often me never really seeing but giving it the freedom to cast itself as it will, and others to make of it what they also will! a great gift! cute poem with a hint of lazy searching on a sunday after a good roast. ;) great to see you back in action b! HUGSS
Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS
"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."
Indeed! The how and why set
Indeed! The how and why set me pondering constantly, and that's a great thing; but the freedom is indeed liberating and limiting. Once I do write, I'm challenged with the dilemma of is the poetic and for others or just self serving doodles. When it's artful, (to me at least), I'm happy. If others agree, it's sublime! But when I'm in doubt, not so much. While both are valid and are sometimes perhaps worth sharing, I'm bashful (at least in the literary sense;-) & prefer not to parade in the emperor's wardrobe :-D Love ya & eternally grateful;-)
With Each Word Selected
the poet bares a little bit more of his innards. Goes with the literary terrain. I read the man with the blue guitar out loud a few days ago - and got snagged on "...a shearsman of sorts..." I take out the sharpeners, weild my shears lavishly or humbly or with tongue in cheek or simply simple and slice away; a shearswoman of sorts :D I adore this poem. :S