I just decided to make this week all about revising old work and seeing what i could do with it after learning new things. This week's free verse is about expanding something previously. Here is the link to the old one: http://djaxxs.blogspot.com/2012/01/free-verse-2-week-3.html
This week:
They say to be a poet is an ailment,
in tune with mother's green
thumb while pacifying the dormant narratives that plague
this world. Whether Douglass or Lincoln, King or X.
I'm reluctant to watch these letters scribble
themselves like scrabble on this page. Their ugly,
but not that ugly like the 50
sexiest woman list that gets posted every year, but like that duckling
bloomed shedding its past in that one story. I want that
feeling, to see the best in this writing come out. No agreements with the blue
enemy that stagnates the tempo. Just a personified pencil
aiming to rewrite some words that may form sentences
about nouns that use verbs to describe what they do in between the adjectives.
Their living and breathing using my blood as life
support, words that is
and they strive to be something greater than the withering tree outside your mothers house, or the black rose that wilts.
I'm trying to curb that feeling
to write because its like that feeling when you
have something you want to use but it slips out
of your mind,
down your nose, plays with your
tongue and then leaves a
taste that you want back. That diction I'm urging for, does that mean
I'm sick because my sound is off, Or sounding off because im sick
of vowels that dont listen...
To the consonants, the clashing cacophony that claps at the tempo.
When it should be blossoms that bloom blissfully under moonlight.
Something like euphony.
No comments:
Post a Comment