I set down the words
But do not own their meaning
Any more than I control the wind
The sun
Or the rain
I release them
Into the world
Let the prevailing winds
Take them where they may
Perhaps to find the meaning
They have for you
I set down the words
But do not own their meaning
Any more than I control the wind
The sun
Or the rain
I release them
Into the world
Let the prevailing winds
Take them where they may
Perhaps to find the meaning
They have for you
Themes and thoughts that did emerge
With promise of infinity
Then vanished at a wall
Leaving not a word at all
Instead I wrote this deathly dirge
To writer’s block I fall
I’ve never studied
What the Poets say
Nor worried much
How they place their words
Or why that way
I do not know
How to write a sonnet
I am not sure
What makes pentameter
Iambic
I hope that’s OK
If nothing comes
Find a prompt
(Photographs usually work.)
Start again
Breathe
Quiet mind
Write what comes
Don’t argue with the words
It’s OK to not like what they say
Write them anyway
It’s OK to not have the right words
Write down the wrong words
The right ones can be found later
Wait or pause whenever it feels
Like the words aren’t coming… yet
Or the meaning isn’t right… yet
And the right way isn’t present… yet
Quiet mind
Breathe
Take the time
To let them come
To let them flow
When they flow
Don’t stop
Stop, when it feels OK to stop
Stop, when the words feel true
If the words feel true
They are authentic
Whether or not they seem beautiful
Whether or not they seem important
Whether or not they seem angry
Whether or not they seem loving
Whether or not they seem … whatever
This is the hard part
Whether or not they hurt a little to read
Or hurt a lot
It seems, though
Authentic words are never hurtful
Nor bitter
Nor righteous
There is no deceit in them
Nor guile
The ego is not authentic
Not all words which come
Need to be shared
Even authentic ones
Some words were only ever intended
To speak truly to a readership of one
But, consider sharing them anyway
The word could use a little more
Authenticity
Sometimes
I know
Sometimes not
Which will touch
Which will not
Surprised, too
Often
By how they are read
By what is seen
By others
I’m no brave soul
Blazing a path of wisdom
For others to follow
Such youthful fantasy
I love to follow the arc
Luxuriate in the sensation
Experience the emotion of tone
Map out the journey of my eye
Through the continents of shapes
Beauty
Not because I think I am important
Or I have something important to say
It’s just the way the words come
And I’m just fine with that
No, the words are there
They are always there
But I cannot hear them
Cannot see them
And so the world seems grey
Sounds like white noise
The guileless hum
Of a refrigerator