A poem

you tell me then we’ll both know...

high above breaking blue 

the poet grazes, 

her mind in dirty places 

secret places. 

bursting to create, 

 .... rehabilitate 

her somewhere mind.

representation of pro-creation. 

a veritable feast of lovers fare 

upon flavorless surfaces, 

with just the stroke of her pen.  

could this be a new beginning, 

to end thoughts of waning 

and stagnation? 

a litany of verse 

syl-la-ble by syllable. 

words piled high, 

a smouldering heap 

of poetic slow burn.

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

I have such a passion for writing. I can't imagine ever being without it. But it remains a mystery, the way it comes and goes, leaving us fulfilled, then high and dry. Much enjoyed this, Izzy!

[Island Hippy]

Right on :) I really like your review... well said! Many mahalo Kelly

[Chris Shaw]

That compulsion to write, to put pen to paper. I think we all suffer for our words. I have a love/hate relationship with mine. I hate the struggle to create, but have much affection for the baby birthed. Stop, start, stop, start, there is never an easy pathway. Very relatable lines Izzy.

Chris

[Island Hippy]

I love hearing how others get on, how the words churn and the like. I too can totally relate to your words :) Many mahalo Chris

[Chris Shaw]

You are welcome Izzy

[Dr. YumnaKay]

This is lovely. 'a litany of verse' and 'poetic slow burn', great word choices and excellent potrayal of how a writer/poet's mind works most the times.
I feel the thoughts of waning and stagnation may subside for a while but they resurface often.
Brilliant piece.

[Island Hippy]

Ae they do don’t they... I find I’ve learned to appreciate those times of ‘waning & stagnation’ (with a fondness) a way to challenge ourselves recharge and begin again. Many mahalo x

[jacob erin-cilberto]

sometimes writing can be like a night of making love---but more than the feeling is left as a result---
the children we create in that frenzy...they are permanent....

ah, that burn----i relate to this because it is how i write...in bunches, in a frenzy...several at once and then it's time for the cigarette (if i still smoked) and the cooling off ----coming down from the high.

this poem has a fire to it...a passion about writing...the real poet will feel.

[Island Hippy]

Love this review, it nice to know some one as prolific as you can relate, I had imagined you have this rather organized processed. Many mahalo for the compliment x

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i am the furthest from organized when i write...i am just a conduit...the words come...and i write them down---more like Frank O'Hara the Beat poet---they come in bunches...then they stop---and I sometimes cannot type fast enough to keep up...can't really take credit for most of what i write---really not sure where it comes from...
those who write with the process? who can do that?
i admire greatly.

[Coyote Poetry]

Writing, a blessing and can be a sickness. We must write, sweet or not. The words we write. Still our babies. I liked your thoughts my friend. I hope you are enjoying the days of Summer. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[Island Hippy]

Aloha John, lovely words. We must write - yes my friend! Many mahalo x

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree my friend. And you are welcome.