- Share |
Use Keywords &/or Title to SEARCH
Most RECENT Posts
- Soup’s on! sandragrifomontimurro
- Dodge Poetry Festival: Oct. 20-23, 2016 email@example.com (ARB)
- An error has occurred; the feed is probably down. Try again later.
Tag Archives: next
Climbing into the darkness.
That’s how it always starts.
I don’t know where I was beforehand,
and I don’t know why I am pursuing that space above.
My climb up always starts with ease and determination in step.
Right, left, right, left, right until I am left at the top rung.
That’s what I do when I’m uncertain of what to do next,
of whether or not I should continue my march up.
All I am sure of is the darkness, it is everywhere.
Even when I’m not looking, I sense the chill
and heaviness presses on my lungs.
The chill that envelopes and squeezes.
I don’t like the feelings I have here.
I hesitate with trepidation, for myself and for what will become of me
when I step beyond that which I am able to see.
Progress can only be made when movement is forward,
or to that place of unknowns in the dark.
Progress can only be made when progression is achieved
over doing nothing,
It is a more complex entity, that space.
It presents more to chew on.
If you are hungry enough, you will forge your self, your feet, your mark.
Moving on is not scarey, but entering a room,
when before, I was only climbing up to an unknown, unseen space.
It is unexpected, and foreign and presents it’s own set of things to understand.
I have gotten this far, yes, so I suck up all strengths that I once had
and climb into that room. .
I stand alone,
as though a spotlight highlights my entry.
Can it be sensed that I am filled with apprehension?
Can it be that obvious?
The light points out the fact that I am sweating.
The light shows that I am ill-at-ease.
I go no further and stand alone in a room filled with fear.
My fear to climb.
Not a fear of darkness.
I am afraid to better myself, to go up,
I am afraid of success, afraid
to succeed at being anything that is different than how I am now,
a mediocre bystander in the dark
in a room filled with my fears.
-dld january last, 2011, and there will never be another–
ThinkingTen – On Location, Mondays: In a room filled with fear.
Q: don’t you feel guilty for not getting much done?
W: i’ve a few journals with notations all over
they need me
i have (pause) written, as tho i’m going to finish it shortly
they need me
and things with boxes around them and stars,
exclamation points and lines with arrows
directing to what’s ‘Next’,
i guess to warrant urgent completion
they need me most
Q: how do you move forward from so much distraction, from so many artistic outbursts?
W: i stare at the page, waiting for the page to talk
forgetting about those lost words,
’cause that’s too much of a pain to search for them.
laziness comes into this funk too.
aren’t i a pathetic role model for writer’s everywhere!?!
Q: she laughs
W: i’d much rather sink into the scene before me…
a pot of coffee
and an ashtray between us
than to take all those loose ends and
connect the dots
to make sense.
Q: so, you feel like you are fighting the page to coax out the words?
W: i fight scuffmarks on pages overturned
the attempts are fruitless and the ritual sabbotaged,
but that’s my place, isn’t it? to take the seeds from the rind
and water them down with less words
excreting more growth, more sense
so i am left with
a comfortable poem to leave on my coffeetable,
next to the ashtray and wandered dots of no consequence to me,
Q: thank you for this insight. i will continue this interview in next month’s edition.
……………………………………………………….3/28/2008; rev. 8/10/10, rev. 11/30/10
Writing Challenge for KaizenMuse – The Writer is IN, Writing Club
out of reach, except for whatever that THING IS we shared
still HAVE after all these years
in some ways, primal by their nature, we have a comfortable connection
still have it after all these years
we were younger
ignorant to what we should do, what we could do
foolish in what we made happen
as it stands before us now…
is this a sign that only time in alignment with how our lives played-out
to bring us to today
to make us wonder all these lost years later
what do we do next?
from the moment that we met
what still seems surreal
both facing aftermaths of worlds turned upside-down
convinced, yet expected, we were meant to meet
to touch one another
nurture what we each needed
the home we’ve been building
within this comfortable bubble
I am safe
I am loved
but have i found the me I lost after all these years?