PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Flowing Freely?

Thoughts, Emotions: True Facets of this art- able to be stung only by the inferiority of human error. Such components faced with the scrutiny of a mother leaving her child- no scenario going without thought. Items of the mind that yield an existence that is undeniable, yet a presence that is weak and lacking a certain conviction- prohibiting a link between mind and pen.



A Cyclical Process?

Continuing to rise, the river approaching the limits of the damn, waters comprised of word and thought raise until the damn is hidden from the eye's field of vision. The elusive process’s result is inevitable and eventually the damn is surpassed. A frenzy of word and thought overflow the mind’s barrier cascading out running from my mind like water at Niagara, continuing down the curvature of my bicep with a powerful steadiness capable of making the mightiest of rapids look gentle. The flow of thought from mind, rests in the bottleneck basin existing between page and pen; further distancing uncertain thoughts from the ocean-like freedom of the awaiting page? Mind forces an infinite number of words to simultaneously race for the tip of my pen, hindering them from reaching the page in a timely manner. Slow to arrive, emerging like a puzzle- piece by piece except word-by-word. There is no rhythm to this song and no beauty that is apparent, not at this moment. Words come, dripping from pen to page like the first snowflakes of winter to the earth?



Continuing?

Arrays of thoughts begin to flow onto the page, illuminating incomplete illustrations that sit messy and unkempt as they rest on the page. The Search for recognizable poignancy, feeble attempts to find worth or value within the river of black scribbles go un-rewarded Dialect pushes onward; eventually emitting clarity, passion and sense as they commence eventually arriving at their point?



A Delicate Method?

A process that starts with nothing but uncertainty concluding in state of positive identity. A method illustrated to shape this madness. Painting portraits not with brush and easel but with ink and thought. Word take shape, vibrancy appears within the context at hand- drawing colorful illusions in the minds of the ever-growing audience. Staring down, at page now amassed with words- the end is near, a cliche holding a shed of truth- as completion nears. The white sheet now covered with a contrasting black ink camouflaging any ignorance or error within the body of work which is able make everything look like something even if it is in fact nothing at all. Scribbles and scratches- images not just forming words, but something more than that, able to resemble thoughts removed, realizing the removal of thought from mind, forming removed thought- which has since transformed into emitted emotion. Words true, hiding nothing, not even within the shadows of the margins. The ink, iron cast on paper, produced by pen bears the creator’s soul?



The Painted picture carrying words rather than brushstrokes for the portrait’s portrayal?

Words form an intangible filmstrip of their author’s core- centering on his emotions and thoughts alike?



Finally finished-

The last I's dotted, the last T's crossed?

A complete piece-

Edited into a final solution that solves a problem no longer present as the end has been reached?



It is a melodic reality; poetic even, this process is indeed?

The painting is done, the process now over, the poem finally complete?

It is a melodic reality; poetic even, this process is indeed?

The author looks down staring at his work, and it is good?