Fragments
Afterthought
If you treat me like an afterthought
I should leapfrog your plans
dance upon your intentions
delay your beginning
until, when you finally arrive at me
you are on time
and I am the Only thought
Then again, it only occurs to me
After I've thought about it.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Stitches
I'm not sure what holds me together
music streaming down from stars
laughter bubbling up like blooms
colliding in a maelstrom of colour
that wraps around me like
the scattered pieces of fabric
before the quilter forms a design
Though the pattern is still unknown
and I do not know if healing comes after
something keeps me in stitches
---------------------------------------------------------------------
So after my third bad night's sleep in a row, I woke up with those annoying exhilirating lines of poetry running through my head. The ones I could not get out of my fingertips a while ago. As thrilled as I was to have poetry in my sleep, I was also anxious and annoyed. When it comes to me in the middle of the night, then I just get up and write. When it comes to me first thing in the morning, I know I have to do some mundane things before I can put fingers to keyboard. Pee, make coffee, wash a cup, turn on the computer, get the coffee (tap tapping my foot instead of the keys) and all the while praying that I don't lose what's in my head. Because as soon as I fully wake up, other mundane thoughts start running through my head. What I have to do for the day, how much time I have to write befoe I have to get ready for work. How much pain I am in and what the day is going to be like and all the things I have to do. Though I am pleased that I managed to retain 2 of the four poems that I woke up to, I am equally sad that I lost those other two. And the second one I typed up was actually the first one I composed - and I lost a few lines of it along the way. So they remain fragments. I dislike fragments, even though they represent a useful exercise. Becuase I never manage to go back and finish the fragments. Sometimes they seem complete enough as they are, but more often they feel like they need work or development, and I can't do it. Fragments too often feel like failures of writing, instead of the gratifying burst of creativity they actually are. I need to get over that and just be grateful they come to me. It's not a terrible way to start the day, really.
But I cannot help wanting more. And I cannot help but resent that they usually come after I am more than seriously sleep deprived. I don't care how nice it is to find a positive out of a negative, in this case. It's one of those rare times when I would rather not be writing. May the Muse forgive me for saying so.
If you treat me like an afterthought
I should leapfrog your plans
dance upon your intentions
delay your beginning
until, when you finally arrive at me
you are on time
and I am the Only thought
Then again, it only occurs to me
After I've thought about it.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Stitches
I'm not sure what holds me together
music streaming down from stars
laughter bubbling up like blooms
colliding in a maelstrom of colour
that wraps around me like
the scattered pieces of fabric
before the quilter forms a design
Though the pattern is still unknown
and I do not know if healing comes after
something keeps me in stitches
---------------------------------------------------------------------
So after my third bad night's sleep in a row, I woke up with those annoying exhilirating lines of poetry running through my head. The ones I could not get out of my fingertips a while ago. As thrilled as I was to have poetry in my sleep, I was also anxious and annoyed. When it comes to me in the middle of the night, then I just get up and write. When it comes to me first thing in the morning, I know I have to do some mundane things before I can put fingers to keyboard. Pee, make coffee, wash a cup, turn on the computer, get the coffee (tap tapping my foot instead of the keys) and all the while praying that I don't lose what's in my head. Because as soon as I fully wake up, other mundane thoughts start running through my head. What I have to do for the day, how much time I have to write befoe I have to get ready for work. How much pain I am in and what the day is going to be like and all the things I have to do. Though I am pleased that I managed to retain 2 of the four poems that I woke up to, I am equally sad that I lost those other two. And the second one I typed up was actually the first one I composed - and I lost a few lines of it along the way. So they remain fragments. I dislike fragments, even though they represent a useful exercise. Becuase I never manage to go back and finish the fragments. Sometimes they seem complete enough as they are, but more often they feel like they need work or development, and I can't do it. Fragments too often feel like failures of writing, instead of the gratifying burst of creativity they actually are. I need to get over that and just be grateful they come to me. It's not a terrible way to start the day, really.
But I cannot help wanting more. And I cannot help but resent that they usually come after I am more than seriously sleep deprived. I don't care how nice it is to find a positive out of a negative, in this case. It's one of those rare times when I would rather not be writing. May the Muse forgive me for saying so.