Friday, December 01, 2006

A Poet’s Process

Poetry Thursday’s prompt this week is: If These Walls Could Talk. I struggled with this topic for some reason. I kept thinking about all the things that walls could say. They could be encouraging, understanding, imaginative, solemn, silent, etc… I thought I would show you my different attempts and the final product. It came out much differently than I would have thought, but the poet’s process is to let the muse flow.

I get you, you say
But there are so many parts of me, I reply

I see you, you say

But I am hiding, I reply

I hear you, you say

But I am silent, I reply

I accept you, you say

But I do not accept myself, I reply

I have faith, you say

Thank you, I reply
If these walls could talk
Then I could engage
With their wisdom and sage
They could announce their reds and blues
With conviction and delight
If these walls could talk
My feet would not sink through clouds
I could know their secrets
Their moments of witness
I could hear the truth
And tell it
I could play with struggle and realness
(beginning of a sonnet)

Hush now, I will tell you a fairytale
A magic cottage sits among the trees
Swarming with stars and moons avail
I beckon you to enter if you please
The walls will join us for a cup of tea
And speak of hidden secrets deep inside
Of solitude and yens to flee
Be quiet, they would say
Listen to the creak of the rocking chair
Wait patiently for the scream of the kettle
The beckoning whisper of the couch
Newly constructed, my painted skin reflected
The naiveté in your blushed cheeks
I observed cups of chamomile and girly giggles
The stillness of sweet intimacy covering harsh histories

Slowly, silence grew louder, echoed harder
Frustrations fell in chipped pieces from my ceiling
My walls unwilling participants
Of broken china and crushed bones
I witnessed cycles spinning fast
Into knees begging for kind acceptance
Needing relief to reach the core
Where all goodness settles

I wept for the innocence lost from your eyes
Watching it linger in the air for a brief moment
Before its final escape through the screen door

Hush now, lean against me
I will hold you, for time has made me brave
Let us quiet together
And sigh.


Shira said...

a soft sigh, mine.

i appreciate this poem-post. it's gorgeously vivid, expressing what is and isn't said, by--and in--the walls, and what is and isn't heard, and how it's in the meeting of two different things, that the co-created third (intersubjectivity) is created.

Anonymous said...

Gorgeous...I love you...R

ecm said...

It's so interesting how you took this in so many different directions. There may be a family of little poems right here :)