I squeeze the rock and dip my pen.

January 25, 2011

Decompression:
my poetry rises
to the surface
bleeding
words.
__________

In this inky darkness
I fill my pen
and start to paint words
on a blank canvas
in my mind.
__________

I paint and glaze
lumps of clay
gouged from life
fired in my mind
a kiln.
__________

Little hammer in my head
cobbling together words
letting my mind walk
along roads
not before taken.
__________

I string my bow
and dash into the forest
of words
to catch
a poem.
__________

Writer’s block:
blank page
white glare.
__________

I bare my heart and soul
words wet
with blood and spit.
__________

My pen a needle
I weave words
to keep you warm
on winter
evenings.
__________

Being human
and writing words
are my new life’s work.
__________

Molten words
spill from thought
forged as poems
left to cool
in pixels.
__________

Molten metal words
flow in my consciousness, to
take shape in my poems.
__________

Riding the waves
of writing
on my keyboard.
__________

I squeeze the rock
and dip
my pen.
__________

Walking words
trailing sentences
in my wake.
__________

…I bend time with my words.

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5 Responses to “I squeeze the rock and dip my pen.”

  1. Peter, you’ve captured beautifully what we all experience day-to-day…thank you for making me feel less alone in this way

  2. dani said

    Beautiful descriptions of writing poetry.

  3. […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Peter , Peter . Peter said: Blog updated with… *I squeeze the rock and dip my pen* …http://bit.ly/ffWqwP […]

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