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Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Driven by Poetry

Driven by Poetry

Poetry, my master,
demands unpaid service and
forces me—pay attention.

Words insist, images tumble,
persistent like dust balls on
hardwood floors, and sure as song.

Words wail, want, need, spill onto
the page from my black pencil,
rasping with rhythmic rumble.

Fingers cramp and dreams speak in
code,  clarity in my chest,
yet thinking in tongues.  My task,
to translate to the pale page
a vision, a truth, a tale
or some ordinary thing.

From it spin

Photo is mine.


Crafty Green Poet said...

poetry is a demanding creature indeed!

Carol Steel said...

Thanks for the comment CGP. I feel like thinking in poetry is running my life now. That can be both good and bad.