When We Wait More Than We Write
When our eyes become
adjusted to darkness
we call ourselves poets
The ones who stand
too close to the speakers
listening for the hum
of the world’s forgotten song
We wait for falling stars
to burn in our laps
for dread to pass
and time to stop
We wear berets
and quit our jobs
fix our gaze
on the faraway
We empty our pockets
and give up our turn
We sit in moonlight
and tie up loose ends
We wait for poems
that fit like skin
We dream them
from a distance
then write them
close in
________Colleen Redman, rewrite / Poets and Storytellers United
October 14th, 2022 12:40 am
When our eyes become
adjusted to darkness
we call ourselves poets – oh wow… this is THE “I wish I had written it” verse! Beautiful!!! Speechless!
October 14th, 2022 1:51 am
Yes!!!
October 14th, 2022 4:37 am
You stated it so elegantly. Sometimes it seems the poem restlessly waits while the writer’s observations brew.
October 14th, 2022 10:33 am
We dream them
from a distance
then write them
It is a good strategy to think twice before gaining the upper hand. It is a real need as the prisoners are well schooled in ways of extending good tricks. Thanks Colleen!
Hank
October 14th, 2022 10:39 am
Oh goodness, “and quit our jobs!!” Pretty drastic,
like the U.S. who quit theirs and go to Ukraine as volunteer militia.
..
October 15th, 2022 12:15 pm
Yes, we wait more than we write, but it’s worth it when “poems fit like skin”. 🙂
October 16th, 2022 6:56 pm
So many wonderful musings on the poet’s process. I am going to grab my black beret now, thank you.
October 17th, 2022 3:33 pm
Once upon a time I quit my job because the powers that were pulled out a beautiful old oak tree from the front of the building. I was more the poet then.
October 19th, 2022 1:20 pm
“We sit in moonlight
and talk to ourselves
while we wait for poems
that fit like skin”
Wonderful imagery here Colleen. I have certainly sat in that moon’s glow — mumbling and waiting… what a satisfying feeling when our muse does at last whisper in our ear. 🙂✌🏼❤️