Wednesday, 11 June 2014
Good evening poet people.
I pushed out a poem tonight while pondering why often we push through our best instincts and alarm bells, and continue down a dark path. I thought about the nature of a fairytale, how the hero or heroine must be tested, and through that, valuable lessons are learned.
For me, it's often been the urge or need to feel alive, to shave off my corners and be new. Or a way into a place where I can use experience in my writing. In that way, I suppose, I'm a method writer. I must feel it to write it.
Most of all, I thought about this life, this drama and me. I thought about what it means to me to lose control and throw myself into the fast flowing stream. What it might mean if I did just that.
I must follow this silver slipway
in my hooded cloak
to the full moon through
the darkening forest.
It could be a forgone conclusion
that each twist will lead
to a rotten red apple core.
But I must know for sure.
Deeper I will go
to the candy-covered house.
It can have no charms on me,
not if I know
there's a witch within.
I can refuse to cage my brother.
I can refuse to stoke her fire.
And when she turns to bite, I'll run.
For I've left white pebbles
trailing my way home