The following poem was constructed during the Method and Mystery Book Launch event on June 22nd, 2019. Every participant contributed a line, which was then assembled into the work below. Comment on this post by leaving your own line of verse – Where Do Poems Come From?
Last night a friend asked me what do I do…when… I have… writer’s block. (I frequently get asked this… *shrug*) Don’t write. Words emerge. Haunt me. Then…I know…it’s time. Words come from up above. Period. I don’t write ‘em!
Poems come from hysterical inspiration and the sweetness of breathing
They come from the backyard of the mind
They come from my dream and deeper in my heart. Poetry comes from when I freeze my soul; From lavender bushes and ash living in my bones
Poetry comes from under the river under the rocks, under the memory that might stop you!
A star bursts out making a pattern in the universe
Empty flower vases, Dreaming of another place
Poems come from the swan’s walk, the wind’s whisper and the light above the fog.
Poems come from the soiled underside of stones caught in the brown throat of a river
Poems come from the shrieking carcasses of the lunar warthogs which can be found in the remote wetlands of the Galapagos
Poems come from the scorched eyebrows of demons, from the falling ash of their breath; From quicksand and blackened rock
Poems come from coal miners who work in the heart
Poems come from the thread of abandoned whisker my cat leaves on my pillow
Poems are the inner gurgling of the reflective mind
Mini-obsessions that need to be quenched through action
from moments that are hard to understand
Love is a long spanking; Rhythm of like sound a noise that abounds, the sound of a tree being lifted of a forest floor.
Poems come from the voices my pen recaptures from the light; Inside the labyrinth of a scarab’s heart
Poems come from space between confusion and deep knowing; The causeway of the soul, from the many selves, silenced for years, now honored guests at the table of meaning