hides under my bed,
inspiring dreams. Early in the morning,
just before I wake, words dance
along my eyelids,
bringing me to that half-life
of awareness.
I can’t quite remember anything
after I’m awake,
other than the shape of the words
laid out on a page,
staggering toward some meaning,
rather like a paint by number,
the colors not filled in,
and my brush strays outside the line.
of awareness.
I can’t quite remember anything
after I’m awake,
other than the shape of the words
laid out on a page,
staggering toward some meaning,
rather like a paint by number,
the colors not filled in,
and my brush strays outside the line.
 |
| Street Art in Sao Paulo, Brazil (Camp 2009) |
Today’s OctPoWriMo prompt invites us to explore where poetry hides in our life. Thank you, Amy McGrath, for your lovely photos and invitation to write.
Most of the year, I do wake with words and images for the morning writing session, but, for me, poetry hides throughout the year, except for October and maybe April. The rest of the year, I'm writing and editing stories!
Click HERE to read what others have written -- and enjoy!
No comments:
Post a Comment