I've been in battle with the word all my life. The hard distant pews were too hard of seats for me. It meant too much then too little. I saw the rules as chains so it's funny that when my soul breathed church is where those chains were broken and I was truly set free.
If you would like to read more of my poetry please take a look at my portfolio. You can also watch a few of my poetry readings.
I want to speak,
but I’ll let you go.
One word of mine will escape
before it’s your words that flow.
Each time I shrink.
I retreat.
I see your need
to be loved
to be heard.
I want to speak,
but instead I’ll simply retreat.
Photo by Anton Darius | @theSollers on Unsplash
If you would like to read more of my poetry please take a look at my portfolio or watch a few of my poetry readings.
The words are bubbling. They are brewing. I once danced with them on the beach with the setting sun. Now the moon reigns and the words are a mush of over cooked strew. They are just bubbling and brewing no longer dancing in my mind.
The beautiful melody of fantastic descriptions and deep pondering has left my side. I now sit wishing and wanting for the words I needed to say to arise again. I wait for them to dance out of the sludge like stew that is now taking over my mind.
Tiredness slows down my thoughts and the need for sleep mixes all of them together. At sunset with the cool breeze whispering words to me, my mind was perfectly poetic as it pondered a pure poem. Now only random ramblings can be rattled off as the stew thickens and traps the dancing melody of the pure poem inside.
Are all the words already said?
Did they fly out of someone else’s head?
I can’t see and I can’t find
Any words that are inside.
Are all the words already made?
Did they already create all the new means?
I don’t have any to call my own.
No new words have been shown.
Are all the words claimed?
Can they never be changed?
If I use a word a certain way;
If I tweak the meaning in a different way,
will some one complain?
Are all the words already said?
Are all the words already made?
Are all the words claimed?
I think not;
you just have to look beyond.
Let me twist you
distort you
and make you my own.
I want to ring you out
and squeeze
every bit of meaning out.
Then I will fill you with flowers
and the sweet scent of love.
Once I dissect you
I will stitch you back together.
Once I know your insides
and can hold tight to your outsides,
then I will use you,
then I will love you dearly.
First,
Let me twist you
distort you
and make you my own.
Wow, that became a dark poem. I am talking about learning different words though, I swear. The you is a word.
Clerihew
A Clerihew is a comic verse consisting of two couplets and a specific rhyming scheme, aabb invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956) at the age of 16. The poem is about/deals with a person/character within the first rhyme. In most cases, the first line names a person, and the second line ends with something that rhymes with the name of the person.
My friends are at the door
but I slipped and hit the floor
through the window they can see
and now they are laughing at me.