To share is to savor even more
I can already tell that my explosive
period of poetic inspiration is coming
to an end. Instead of 5-7 poems a day
I am down to 1 poem every few days.
But that is fine with me. I know me
and know that these burst come
randomly and consume me when
they do. But, in time, they taper out
and I return to a more normal schedule of writing.
I wrote a poem last night I thought
I would share with anyone who reads my blog.
June 3rd, 2006
A Mission for the Girl
This girl,
who never
set the world on fire
flashing
downcast eyes
and weary smiles,
now aims her
full force field
of internal
energy
toward bringing to life
the dream that resides
in a
well of desire
she only
recently tapped.
She's finding foot holes on a
inner
mountain of courage that
rises out of her depths.
Though others
would have
never
guessed
she had this in her.
But, as for the girl,
she always knew.
Now her plan
is to grab and
claw
and scratch
at the
world,
grasp at the world
and
grip it with
both hands,
shake it up
till
it shakes out
all that she is owed
for the time she sowed
being such a
good girl.
All she wants is
everything
and everything is all
she
knows
she is due.
period of poetic inspiration is coming
to an end. Instead of 5-7 poems a day
I am down to 1 poem every few days.
But that is fine with me. I know me
and know that these burst come
randomly and consume me when
they do. But, in time, they taper out
and I return to a more normal schedule of writing.
I wrote a poem last night I thought
I would share with anyone who reads my blog.
June 3rd, 2006
A Mission for the Girl
This girl,
who never
set the world on fire
flashing
downcast eyes
and weary smiles,
now aims her
full force field
of internal
energy
toward bringing to life
the dream that resides
in a
well of desire
she only
recently tapped.
She's finding foot holes on a
inner
mountain of courage that
rises out of her depths.
Though others
would have
never
guessed
she had this in her.
But, as for the girl,
she always knew.
Now her plan
is to grab and
claw
and scratch
at the
world,
grasp at the world
and
grip it with
both hands,
shake it up
till
it shakes out
all that she is owed
for the time she sowed
being such a
good girl.
All she wants is
everything
and everything is all
she
knows
she is due.
5 Comments:
At 6/04/2006 08:08:00 PM, Suzan Abrams, email: suzanabrams@live.co.uk said…
Nice poem, Sara. The intensity of a poetic journey is erratic, isn't it. Just rest in its dimension and go with flow. The fact that you're writing as a writer. Isn't that a wonderful feeling?
love
At 6/04/2006 08:09:00 PM, Suzan Abrams, email: suzanabrams@live.co.uk said…
Oops! I meant..."go with the flow."
At 6/05/2006 10:07:00 AM, Kelley Nyrae said…
I enjoyed your poem. WE all get those brusts of creative engery, and then they slow down. Heres to hoping yours picks up again. Are you working on a MS?
At 6/05/2006 04:16:00 PM, RomanceWriter said…
Susan,
this feeling is the best natural high I have ever felt. I wish I could bottle it. Writing is sanity for me.
At 6/05/2006 04:18:00 PM, RomanceWriter said…
Kelley,
I am making slow proogress on a MS. But I feel happy about what I have written so far. It's still not on strong enough ground for me to feel like I am sure it has legs to go all the way to THE END. We shall see.
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