Sunday, April 12, 2015

becoming

“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”
― Joan Didion, The White Album
And I got it from our prompt over at the imaginary garden with real toads.



 "becoming"

Whisper me your words;
I'll draw them in like silken strings
and wrap them like a fist.

Once to hear you.
Twice to feed you.
Four to see you, again
in my shining eyes. 

Tell me your tales;
I'll take your story for a spin 
and try it on for size.

Once to hear you.
Twice to feed you.
Four to see you, again
in my dying eyes.

Sing me your serenades;
I'll feel them flutter down my throat
and swallow them: whole.



~~~

There's a good chance I'll regret this in the morning. "This" being: publishing the above poem before looking at it with clearer eyes. Meh. Whatevs. That there's a first draft crafted by a sleepy brain that just wants to lay in bed and listen to music. But also write stuff. Mission (mostly) accomplished. Nighty night y'all. 

8 comments:

  1. I think it is gorgeous... love that last stanza.

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  2. This is so intriguing... a really complex and impactful air to this poem. Absolutely loved the imagery :D
    Have a great week ahead :D

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  3. eat these words. they are eternal.

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  4. Great poem, last stanza esp. loaded.

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  5. I love this! Your opening lines are fabulous. I so enjoyed your use of repetition. I see no reason for poetic regrets. Thank you so much for participating in the challenge!

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  6. there is a romantic quality to this poem, i like very much, such a charming write

    have a creative month

    much love...

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  7. First drafts are the most creative after that it's the craft. Very interesting and a great read.
    ZQ

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  8. Yikes-I love the way your wove your web-intriguing!

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