Come
my daughter
My child
my stolen moment
my refusal of mortality
Sit awhile
beside me
here on my old chair
the leather cracked and faded
the smell of men
and smoke
and broken years
deeply infused
I will place all
the expectation in the universe
upon your young shoulders
and you will of course
deny me
I will argue
and you will scream
till the birds fall from the sky
in startlement
in amazement
in homage to
the woman you think you have become
Come
my daughter
My child
my image of God
my pristine canvas
my reminder
Stay awhile
with me
as I drop crumbs of wisdom
for you to ignore
to devour
to plant
for the coming season
I will refute your beliefs
and you will convince me
yet again
never again
all over again.
8 comments:
gorgeous!
They may be harder to write for you these days, but they're better than ever!
Thank you kid, I really appreciate you saying that *hugs*
I wonder, and perhaps you can help with this, how is it, the longer I write, the less sure I become of what I create?
Once, I was sure everything I produced was a genuine piece of brilliance *grin*, now, I question everything I begin, are you the same?
It seems to me, it would work the other way around, and the more years you write, the more comfortable you become with it...
yeah, I'm just the same. to be honest, I think posting on online crit boards has something to do with it. listening to too many varying, and often uninformed, opinions.
I think it makes you doubt everything.
I think it's best to follow your own heart, your own instincts, and your own interests. 'to thine own self be true' is especially important when it comes to creativity. Otherwise how will you ever write anything that is authentically you?
a couple of opinions from good friends is enough to help I think.
for the rest I think what's really important is just to read good writers.
at the moment I'm reading Run, Rabbit by John Updike. I've never read anything by him before, but I'm finding it very interesting. He's a talented writer.
My reading comes and goes in runs, I can read six books straight, then not read anything for two months.
I agree, the crit boards are a mixed blessing to say the least, you do meet some good poets/people.
I honestly havent had a harsh crit for such a long time, except for that lunatic last year, but that was more of a personal issue rather than poetic issue lol.
I do think I am becoming very insular about poetry though, my poetic world has shrunk lol
lol
you can be the 'poet in a pinhole', or a pinhole poet! lololol
I will shrink and shrink, till you will need a magnifying glass to see me, and my words will be written on dust motes, very hard to read a dust mote you know.
And one day, a hundred years from now, a woman called Greta, who now lives where I once did, will spring clean, and all my words will leap and cavort for just a moment in a sun beam, only to fall and flutter back to the ground, forgotten, trod upon, ground back into the earth from whence they came.
Which will of course, teach me to write on dust motes lol
lol, and all your poems will become scrambled together and reform into new poems that no one ever thought of before!
I wonder ... imagine if you cut up all your poems and remade/remixed them? hmmm maybe I'll try it one day.
Or imagine if you remixed a whole lot of famous poems!!! How postmodern that would be!
Imagine the rucus that would stir up!
That would be worth doing just to see the traditionalists have a conniption lol.
I have often thought I should revise my poems, go over old ones and redo, rework etc, and yet, there is compulsion in me that whispers, no, do not touch them, they must stay as they are.
Sweet Jesus, I am so weird even I wonder sometimes *laughs*
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