We could be floating on mountains bubbled under with diamonds
Down by the flames, holding the yard, the house, the highway
On the flat slope of the planet's curve, while underneath us,
Down where I imagine the world kneeling on a star she has found
And must keep burning because that is her job--
Always there is a job--the diamonds on her knees
Feel like this grit, like the tiles gnawing into my knees
As I try to defy the dimness beneath me with Clorox
While a continent slides through my thoughts
As I follow the sun burning beneath me.
This is being shared with Poets United for Poetry Pantry #412. The poem itself is...well...I hit a bit of a writing slump this week. There was a day when I was in the bookstore, looking at rows of books and my brain just went "nope" and I've been variously avoiding writing since. Several years ago we visited a park where a spring had run dry--there was a pump and a nice little plaque about how pioneering families in the area had depended on this water for a nearby fortification and now it was a nice grassy hollow in the shade of a treeline just at the edge of the park's maintained landscaping. For me, this poem feels a bit like that--the last bit of water trickling out and leaving the last edging of limestone about the mouth of pipe.
Hope this week brings you plenty of interesting reading and more than enough water for the pipes!
-- Chrissa
Beautifully written.....and the cool thing about the times the words dont come....they do always come back. Louise Erdrich calls the in between times, a period of gestation. Your trickle reads better than my wildest stream, lol.
ReplyDeleteI understand so well the words not coming. My words didn't come this week either. I always wonder if they will come again, or if the 'spring' is totally dry. Sigh. I do hope I have more 'words' and that you do too!
ReplyDeleteIt happens to me too sometimes.. usually when I am stressed out or tired. It also happens when I push myself to write and feel performance pressure. The best thing to do is to breathe.. relax.. eat something we love and poof the words just come!💜💜
ReplyDeleteLove this alter reality.
ReplyDeletei think this is good because i really like the imagery.
ReplyDeleteand one can be amazed by the planets now being discovered in the far reaches of the universe. it has been speculated that some are made up of ..diamonds! :)
It's tough when the muse decides it wants to go on vacation. I almost imagine a bottleneck of perfectly good words that just keep building and building until a decision gets made on which ones to release first. You did come up with some really fun imagery though.
ReplyDeleteAh yes it happens. This piece streams from your consciousness hoping for diamonds where the rough has taken over
ReplyDeleteHave a lovely Sunday
Much🌺love
Both poem (with its wonderful imagery) and backstory are intriguing and eloquently rendered. An awesome post (and a pleasure to read) whilst awaiting your Muse's return.
ReplyDeleteA poem about not writing – now there's an irony!
ReplyDeleteThe Muse does return eventually, and usually I find there has been stuff going on unconsciously, so that after a gap there is some kind of quantum lap in the new writing.
Oh, that dwindling flow of thought. Some days are like that — especially in poetry, I think. Trust the water to run again. But it’s hard not to panic that somehow it has all gone away.
ReplyDeleteLove that title Chrissa, and your beautiful imagery and words prove that you have too much talent not to have the words. You may have some quiet times, but they will be brief.
ReplyDeleteThis is so good Chrissa - I am enthralled by your beautiful writing, so enthralled.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]