Poetry Wednesday - a brief return

This poem captures the words that make poems - a draft

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Hello my wonderful poetry people,

It’s been a slow week as usual, and I almost had to force myself to write words and not knit stitches. But I have managed to capture a few stray thoughts and so I sat with my notes and wrangled. And wrangled. And wrangled. If I was a wonderful artist I could create a picture or a film of what I see in my minds. Sadly stop motion animation or film making, whilst something I’m quite interested in, I have zero expertise in so words it is. Hopefully I’ll be back next Wednesday too with another poem for your delectation.

It’s not finished, it’s not perfect, but I feel I owe the ether my efforts rather than hiding them in pages.

Photo by Katelyn Greer on Unsplash

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capturing the words that make fire

words come to me when and where they want 
and only sometimes do I capture them 
I sleep with pen in hand drawing spirals 
in my slumber; waiting, waiting for

the blooms of despondency to arrive
black roses scented with despair
tarnished petals curling in the deep gloom
thick thorns piercing thought and soul

the once sartorial eloquence of creation
now faded lemon from bright silken 
canary yellow, form wrapped in tightly, 
constraining bonds of heavy expectation

a wretched comfort of disappointment,
creative bleakness encroaching unhindered, 
sorrowfully skimming shining delusion, 
searching, lamenting dark-swollen dreams

stretching out dejected flower husks,
collecting letter rich golden pollen, 
shuffling musky stamen to sentences, 
flora to verses, bouquets to ballads,

creating light from dark: here fire is made.

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Spill your thoughts below. Do you need the blooms of despondency to wrote or does a bright sunny feeling bouy you into word smithing more? What inspires you? Do you sleep with pen and paper by your side or are you a grab the phone and make notes kind of person. I like paper and pen as I don’t need to open my eyes.

Till next time, peeps.

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