Guest Minta Rose Posted July 7, 2002 Report Posted July 7, 2002 On the mountain's flank I wrote With pointed words and phrases furred With laughter to wake the dead Until, at some point, the mountain stirred And smote me on the head. . . (The blow scattered my brains. Was that the form? Or merely poetic convenience? Ah, well. Call the title 'Middle English'. That'll inspire grammatical lenience.) The middle time between the blow And when I ceased to create I lay in state, with all my faculties Devoted to riding the aging breeze To resist the urge to grow (Cheap words--I need a muse.)
reverie Posted July 7, 2002 Report Posted July 7, 2002 Oh kewl... someone else took it up Writing about writing is fun, especially when you can't think of anything else. Self-actualize the process! Um, but yeah, the words do tend get cheap on such a time crunch... But your pretty clever with you phrases, so it's fun to read... Good job. Anyway, I use such exercises to see what's in my brain... Then I may or may not come back to them later and expand them or meld them with other themes I’m currently working on... 'Cause taping inspiration can be tricky when your muse decides to take sick day, but crawling back into a familiar thread whose trail is already have beaten down, is easier... Well sometimes, cause then you run the risk of complicating it so much with competing streams of thought, that you have like 2 or 3 pages of random verses that you could maybe string together only in what order, or with what structure? ... Then you sign, shrug you shoulders and say, " jeez what a mess, how ever am I going to clean all this up..." So you give up, and come back months later with a knife and cut, cut, cut, ...polish, polish, polish... till you got something sort of okay enough to make a coherent draft... Or you give up in disgust.... Write a splinter poem on trying to write your other poem, self congratulates yourself on you cleverness... then conveniently forgot about you other poem... Even though you know, that that monster is just setting there, waiting. Waiting to pounce you when you lest expect it... Screaming, "finish me you lazy coward! Work, fix, bind, mend something anything, ... Look at me!" Um, well that how it is for me, well sometimes... revery the dreamlost "i'm only slightly out of focus" the dream continues... Which Colossal Death Robot Are You?
Justin Silverblade Posted July 8, 2002 Report Posted July 8, 2002 A small, neat, and very cool little piece of literature. I like it a lot. Thanks for sharing, my dear.
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