In a bit of nerdy poetic joyfulness, I have recently begun playing along with the folks at Tweetspeak Poetry. Every so often we all get together and build poems based on the tweets before our own; and then Glynn compiles them all and turns them from something jumbled and chaotic to real poetry.
That’s how I feel every time I write, especially when I’m writing poetry. As Billy Coffey said the other day, the words are always there; for the writer it’s just a matter of pulling out the right ones and putting them in order.
The following is a poem, inspired by Melissa at All the Words, which builds off a few of my contributions to our most recent TSP poetry jam. If you want to see the poetry Glynn created from everyone’s tweets, head over to Tweetspeak Poetry and scroll down.
And I’m adding a few pictures I took the other day that I love but that don’t really fit anywhere on my blog right now. Just to be random.
take this ink–
that pure white page–
write the words within.
rhythmic or rhyming,
descriptive and evocative;
place them here
then close the book.
these do not understand.
they do not know the truth.
at day’s break
and night’s gentle fall,
the words are here–
never bound by two dark covers.
they would burst forth
from dust thick on unpolished shelves,
from the aroma of banana bread baking,
from blue flannel and roughness of beloved cheek,
from sun and rain and all that is vast and miraculous,
all that is small and commonplace–
the words are there.
they will not be bound.
open dark covers;
aroma of poetry pours forth–
song and scent and
words always present in every moment
now and again caught
on that pure white page
in this ink.