Writing

#8 Writing

For me, writing a poem is like an out of body experience.
It pops into my head from I know not where.
If I am not fast enough to write it down
It’s gone.

Is this like the medium when someone from long ago speaks through her?

I do not know, but I imagine.

If I try to change my poem, edit it somehow, I feel like I am messing in someone else’s territory.
So, I don’t.
Not very often, anyway.

It’s not very pretty and very seldom rhymes
but for me
it is very real.
Not really meant for anybody else’s eyes,
I feel the words,
taste the words,
watch them float around,
then snatch them out of the air
and try to glue the thought down.

Writing poems here and sharing
has been a challenge.
Both sticking to a subject and putting them out in public
twists things a little.
I have to hit the “add comment” button quickly
so I don’t change my mind
and so I don’t change my words.

Mostly my poems are written in my head
at times when there is no way to record them.
In the shower, in the car, just falling asleep,
just waking,
pages and pages can fly by.
Imagine if it were written.
I could fill the shelves,
I could fill a library,
I could fill the catacombs.

For now, I will try for 28.