Words, like crickets, leap inside my head –
chirping pests whose trajectory eludes
my dulled reflexes, scuttles about
the periphery of awareness.
Harmless in the singular,
a cacophony of multitudes
threaten any semblance
of sanity.
I strive to intuit their rhythm
define the notes in workable phrases
capture the message before
it all disappears again.
(Art my own)
Ice has blown in overnight
tree branches coated,
sparkling…
… I search for a word
evasive, my fogged brain
having released so many
to the void…
“Varnish?” I ask aloud
“What’s that?” comes an answer
my son-in-law always helpful
spies my hand on butcher block
“Do you mean the finish on the wood?
That’s varnish, yes.”
“No.” I bite my trembling lip.
Indicate the scene outside the window,
the tree with its new shiny coat
“Like varnish!” he exclaims
“That works.”
“Nature’s varnish!” I proclaim
Creativity –
a sometimes bi-product
of a faulty mind.
(Image my own)
Pretty lacks commitment..
“I’m pretty sure…”
“Such a pretty ____”
It doesn’t mitigate sorrow
or revel in depths
Flavourless is pretty
a hollow word
Even less profound
when paired with nice.
(Image my own creation)
“Trade you and ‘n’
for a ‘v'”, I said
to the moon
to the sun
to the bird
at my window
All obliged
and now
my lonely day
is lovely,
lovely,
lovely.
(This is a repost. Hope it made you smile as much as it did me. Image my own)
If thoughts could colour our world
then each breath would express
a new hue, discovery a game
of wonder…
But, I sit here, muted
afraid of words too black or white,
afraid I’ll only encounter
sharp edges…
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
You may believe, Dear Reader,
that the words are mine to command
that I carefully contrive the message
form and structure succumbing
to my direction, syntax following suit
It has not been my intention to deceive
but, you see, I am mere slave to the whim
words hold the power, strangle my thoughts,
demand expression – they are haunting things,
rooted in urgency, and unwilling to bend
I would love to accept praise, pretend
a wisdom that is not mine, but words…
…well, they are born of some alien seed
growing within, nurtured I know not how,
and I am merely the vessel through which
their staccato voyage unravels
Stubborn as they are, silly things, really –
although I dare not say, for they can be vengeful
and vile, and I prefer the fluid passage
of expression than the painful, tearing,
slashing of words – monstrous as they can be
IÂ am rendered servant by their insistence
(Image my own)
Words, like crickets,
leap from my mind –
chirping pests
whose trajectory
eludes my dulled
reflexes, scuttling
around the periphery
of my awareness
Harmless, really,
in the singular,
a cacophony
in multitudes
threatening
to multiply further
and destroy any
semblance of sanity
I must intuit
their rhythm,
define the notes
in workable phrases,
capture the essence
of their meaning
and inscribe the message
before they disappear again.
(Pestilence of Words first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, October 2016. Edited for this edition. Image my own.)
Where do the words go
when they slip through the cracks
of my mental filing system?
And where is recognition
when words reappear,
no longer categorized
or referenced –
out of alphabetical order –
not even an inkling of recall
as if our acquaintance
is akin to discovery?
(Mental-pause first appeared here January, 2018. This version edited.
Image my own.)
Trade you an ‘n’
for a ‘v’, I said
to the moon
to the sun
to the bird
at my window
All obliged
and now
my lonely day
is lovely,
lovely,
lovely.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson
Art my own.)
Words, like crickets
leap from my mind
chirping pests whose
trajectory eludes
dulled reflexes,
scuttling about
periphery of logic
Harmless, really,
in the singular –
cacophony of multitudes
threatening to multiply
take with them
semblance of sanity
Intuit a rhythm
I counsel self
to define the notes
in workable phrases
capture essence
and reason message
but the invaders
adverse to linearity
disappear beneath
the floorboards
of my conscious mind.
(Found this poem, languishing in my blog archives.
Edited, and with an updated title, thought it might
be worth a second look. Art my own.)
One Woman's Quest 