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POETRY THURSDAY
I won't stop writing. I know that I would miss it terribly, it would carve a hole in my heart. And I won't stop writing here either, because the hole in my heart if I did would be you-shaped. Writing is a comforter, warm and dovey. It's a shock to the system. It's an electric wire snapping and hissing in the rain. Writing wakes me up, it shakes me up, it quivers and leaps to life before me. It brings me unspeakable satisfaction. It makes me want to tear my hair out. It makes me feel like God.

To Poem
by Lyn Lifshin


All night
you banged
in my head
poking your fingers
thru me, hot for
blood and then
in the morning
stretching out on
the table
flaunting your muscles
when you knew there wasn't time.
Later in the car
you made me dizzy,
but worse, how you
made my love jealous
perching in my hair
with those stiff wings.
And now, bastard
alone with me finally
the chance to
scares you off.

***

Block
by Elizabeth Slaughter-Ek


Other poets must know this:
the art of catching hold
when the poems fan your face
on their way by.
They listen and hear them.
What's the trick? I grope and
oh . . . a poem, but wait

too late

There are poems braided in my hair.
Peering out, behind my eyes.
In my skull, they are churning,
a big brain soup.
All around my head they hover
but I can't hear what they say.

***

Visit Poetry Thursday for more great poems.

A poem that blew me away yesterday: Dinner With My Dead Father, A Recurring Dream

A poem that blew me away today: A Prayer for Birds Dying in Darkness and in Light (scroll down to the bottom or read them all. Thanks to Julie Carter for the link)
 optimistic
mood: optimistic
music: No Wait Wait—The Score


Comments

i like yours. and i liked "dinner.." too.
thank you for sharing here~

You're welcome, and thank you! :D

Very nice! Even your entry before the poems is like poetry. I love that kind of expressive voice. Thanks for sharing this part of yourself. And I'm glad you won't be leaving.

huggity huggity thanks :)

Regarding such things, my mother once wrote whimsically:

I once caught a thought,
But it drifted away...
And to this very day
I know naught
Of that thought
Of eternal mystery.

I like that. :)

Me too! It pops into my head every time I've forgotten something I was going to say. :)

Your mother sure sounds like she was a neat lady. :)

She totally was! In some ways, you remind me of her. Probably the way you love your kids, and yet are still completely your own spunky, interesting, compassionate person!

(Also, I really like your poem. Forgot to say that last time.)

you're too sweet. :)

I really liked your poem, Block. Very nice.

thank you :)

I won't stop writing.

oh, good! saves me from becoming "the weird guinea pig lady".

like the crazy old cat lady, only blonder and with more cages. :D

(Anonymous)

can I just say, whew! I'm glad. If you gave up your blog i would be unbearably sad. Unspeakably sad.

xo wee

(Anonymous)

and the poems braided in your hair are the most lovely of things.

xo Wee again

Writing wakes me up, it shakes me up, it quivers and leaps to life before me. It brings me unspeakable satisfaction. It makes me want to tear my hair out. It makes me feel like God

Oh yup. Especially the last two!!!

Poetic thought was there
and then gone
between walking in
and tea and scones.

(Anonymous)

There are poems braided in my hair.

I love this image. I am so happy you shared one of your poems today. It's a great can't-write-a-poem poem. (But of course, you can. And you know that.)

;)

~Sprigs


Oh dang it all. I must say this imagery tangled in my hair, or those places directly underneath where the mind can be thought to reside.

Don't stop writing, don't stop writing. (and if you get another username to write out desperate thoughts, be sure to add me) :)

I won't. And I won't :)

I meant that I wouldn't get another username, not that I wouldn't add you if I did. :)

(Anonymous)

All of these are gorgeous, but that last one (Prayer for Birds) blew me away too....


Kestrel (http://themutteringmuse.com)

November 2019
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