Saturday, July 21, 2012

A bunch of drafts


Sometimes I forget
what writing is
or how it is

instead I worry
about how I'm perceived.

Write about what?

Another poem about a bee:

          there is a bee lying dead in my bathroom
                 this morning,
          I think it was the orchids in the shampoo.

And what of bees hold such fascination for me?
I like their gentle buzz but not when they are in my house.

          I didn't want to pick it up
    I did in the end,
          and threw it out the window.

Sitting here in my work(bed)room, I'm feeding
my laptop with power;

what's in this open window?

A poem about rain, a favorite thing,

         how, just before the storms come,
             the sun shines an eerie light, filtered
         through grey too thick for rainbows

             like depression simply is.

Or this:

a half finished poem about kids going to school,

         trudging along with heavy bags carrying
             their future; you can read their ambitions
         brightly highlighted in luminous shades
             in the notes they stare into the whole bus trip,
         memorizing important points to carry with them
             until the school year is out --

         just as well, none of these things matter
             in the end, it's all about timing,
         courage, luck, and the people you get to know.

And so,
back into the folders and drawers these things go.

Someday my thoughts on these will be complete,
by then you will not recognize them, nor me.


I try to avoid writing "me" poems but hopefully this one reads like a lighthearted one.


Brian Miller said...

really cool...i think the essence of writing is to let those things simmer...i like the bit on the bee its funny but also pointed in how we can settle for cheap imitations...i think there is something there...and we can only write for ourselves...if we write for others it will kill who we are as a writer...that close chilled me a bit...a good way or bad?

Anonymous said...

Oh very cool poem - really quite lovely - the play of the mind and poem and yet it's all connected too in that busy-ness and ultimate end. Well done. k.

Claudia said...

you capture that so well.. i have a folder as well where i collect such snippets ..things that hit and we feel there is something that should be written..some of them need just time to come to the surface..others we lose like you state in your last lines.. really like this one much

Ravenblack said...

Brian, Karin and Claudia: thank you for your comments.

I was thinking of submitting this for dVerse Poetics, but I think I'll try to see if I can come up with something new today. :)

kulasa said...

I love your words about rain and sadness...and yes the bee :-) and your thoughts in general...keep writing..I am a fan :-)

Fred Rutherford said...

very nicely done. A poem. Poems within a poem. and a poem internalized as well as speaking a bit on process. Very cool.

Ravenblack said...

Thank you Kulasa. :)

Fred: thanks. :) Just wanted to write it out.

Anonymous said...

Yes, it's a fine line we stay true to ourselves and what we want to say...or worry too much about how we might be perceived. I think it does make me "edit" myself sometimes...not too happy about that though...

And true...some writings need to "stew" a bit..take time to ripen or become what they are to become...and then in the meantime we have changed too. Very cool thoughts in this.

Ravenblack said...

I self-censor a lot. More so in real life. I don't know why I'm so timid like that, wasn't always that way. I feel I live in a world where perfection or expert or you might as well go away. I don't know if the attitude rubbed off on me, in some ways it probably has. And that comes back to hurt my creativity.

Thanks for your thoughts, Bodhirose. :)