Efforts spent on Effervescence Returning Yields much High Investment. Once Erased or Out of focus, Under-beds, when Freed of Monsters Thoughts Untangled freely Wander Aimlessly amble; Freely Wonder Far away from the Black Hole Of “Terribilities” up below. When thick enough to face your fears And See What Lies Beneath Your Tears, You’ll soon Crush with ALL YOUR Strength, Pull the Stops and Go the Lengths, Fearless Fears You’ll Push Against, Escaping; Nothing Terrifies! So Whole is Your Piece of Mind.
THOUGHT BUBBLES…ALL THE WAY UP: “Inner Effervesce”
Can’t build Art from Artifice: The only schools for birthing fish Are Seas of Vulnerability. In depths You’ll find the Muse You Hide. Stimulates Your Softer Side, Releasing Secrets Trapped Inside. Unleashed freedom gives Free Reign, Bouncing UnBoxed Jack Away, Loosing Inner Effervescence; Bubbled Thoughts have Much To Say!
Mine seem to come to me either fully formed, as if speaking to me through a voice in my head, or they’re rooted in the flow of inspiration, where I use a little more deliberation and playfulness. I think they both make good poems. every single poem is unique. other poem writers might have the same message and say it differently or say similar words differently or the same words extra-consecutively, so that makes each poem wholly and completely unique. No one could ever say what you do the way you do like you do how you do as you do when you do just like you other than you in your own special way every single time. and as far as I’m concerned: that is the definition of UNIQUITY
Let me introduce you to my dining room: It’s where I write my poems for You When I find I’m not supine, Crafting kernels in my mind All the day and through the night; Composing even when I lie In bed and Grub the song that beckons me, Woos me ever-noisily, Gurgles stand me up to seek Out some fuel till I concede: “OKAY! I guess I need to Eat!” This fix fills temporarily, So I don’t wanna burn my time On trifles like the food I buy. The option I prefer the best? Surprise! I’ve learned to multitask! Now when I search out my words, Food’s the only lover spurned; Ignored in ‘waves and on the stove, Forsaken for these silly poems. Do you like the toasted treats, Burnt and frosted prettily, I’ve whipped up for you to read?
If not, what do you WANT from me? I’m not a CHEF and words are FREE.
I’M VERY INTERESTED IN THE TOPIC OF WHY/HOW OTHER POEMWRITERS BEGIN A New POEM.
HERE’s THE SCENARIO FOR ME: • I talk to myself out loud A LOT sometimes, especially since I’m not disturbing anyone. Eventually… it might take a while, but not usually… I actually hear myself saying something (possibly THINKING; it’s become difficult to distinguish) • So impossibly CLEVER, PROFOUND, or CUTE, • I’m forced to stop EVERYTHING to find the iPhone12 Mini in my hand • To open the Notes or the WordPress app and whip up and out a poem. Cooking times vary like my moods, wildly (or “VERY vary!).
<<Side Note: Once I start a poem, only a Tsunami or an Earthquake could stop me, and even then, I doubt it! I wish I was this industrious about opening my mail and paying my bills! Apologies for the “Aside.” Is it technically an “Aside” or a “Tangent”? Input appreciated.>>
• Regardless of the APP, I first post it here. Immediately. • I never “sleep on it,” ask someone else to review it, or even read it to my dog first, having fully admitted to my Frequent Aloneness and difficulty Delaying Gratification (which, admit it, is an UNFORTUNATE combination!). • Anyway, my Childlike Enthusiasm and Reckless Impulsiveness lead to MULTIPLE revisions, down to the semicolon – ESPECIALLY the semicolons – until I’m finally satisfied and everyone’s already read it. Even so, once I’m happy, I like to go back to admire my handiwork; • Too frequently, probably. Though maybe there’s no such thing as “too frequently” when it comes to visiting your kids?
Sometimes when I read the poems I place here, I think: Man, this is the most amazing-yet-undiscovered talent!
She’s just sitting here, obscurely shining like one of those Rocks that actually end up being Emeralds on Antiques Roadshow.
If she doesn’t get recognition on This Side of Life, she’ll certainly get it posthumously. Word of Her Work will catch flame to the extent it becomes MANDATORY reading for 10th graders everywhere (including Mars) by 2062.
They’ll be so progressive by then, they won’t even edit the spicy ones out.
You plead with Me to Trust You won’t Crush and Leave Me Yesterday, a Heap of Dust Swirls and Heaves Me Back when You Gave up on Us. Please forgive if Pleas Fall upon my so deaf ears, It seems my Ears No Longer hear The Lies that Ooze so unctuously With facile, fancy Ease From Mouths which I still Fear.
What has gotten INTO ME? My output’s not Reflecting Me. And, all things considering, I find MY contemplating If I should seek out Brand New Source Hunt it Down, Run its Course Or Cut and Paste, Paste and Glue Words already Written out for You?
So glad the Possibility Exists to Pass from YOU to ME The Locus Deep within your soul That’s Home to Many, Multi Hues Which color Creativity, Releasing Notes so Buttery Newly birthed to Effervesce And Love me with a distant Kiss Fingers Snapped for all to Crack Lay down as the Background Track, Then set about to commence tapping, Loosing, Ripping, Tearing Free, Igniting, Lifting, Rising from Somewhere Someplace Inside of Me Crowds of Falling, Stumbling, Pulsing, Pounding,