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Quicksilver & On Being a Writer
Quicksilver
Like sparks fly up out of fire,
They glitter-dance then fly away.
My thoughts leap up in bits and bites
I must write NOW for they won’t stay.
A word, a line, a picture thought
So fleetingly they make their play.
And just as swift as they appear
They hide like needles in the hay.
To my delight, if I find one
And write it down, it’s like a seed
And shortly grows to fill my page
Supplying all the words I need.
© 06-03-2001
On Being a Writer
From whence comes forth
barrage of words, of thoughts
that make me
force me
write them down if I would sleep?
Some trickle off my head
like dripping eaves
and some rage through
volcanic spew
emerging from the deep.
Most dutifully I stop and put them down
for sometime past I learned I cannot win
to rid these ravening beasties from my realm.
Like lava lights they simmer, roll
and then erupt again.
© 3/13/2010
I always say: "Anything and everything can be turned into poetry, much like any food can be turned into soup."
__________________
There is much to be learned. Stick with me kid. Let's make it playful." My Guide
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