I remember words, as pebbles, beads unstringed, as waves of thoughts, impressions leaves and sieved from tarns as silver, moonlight spilled. “You said it wrong. It never was like this It was a matter clinging to my fork, it was gravy from a Sunday steak” It was the loneliness of night when dreams where lumpy pillows and my bedsheet moist and stretched tightly. Snugging morning, I am a teddy bear with pebble eyes. The words of night I cannot make into a necklace, sentences are spotted, lastly lost across the hours until dawn. I don’t remember words It’s lost for light — my mist of thought.
Today Karin, teach us an exercise on toads writing poetry by just writing freely for 7 minutes on what we remember and make it as a springboard for a new poem. This is the little thing I came up with after some minimum editing. I will also link up to Poetry Pantry tomorrow morning.
November 14, 2015