deepundergroundpoetry.com
The unknown in me
The unknown in me
written July 22nd, 2021
I collect words
and try to fit them
to my experiences
trying to capture
this moment right now—
it is all I have.
I—looks at the page
and writes a moment
while others peer over her shoulder
shaking their heads
curling up to sleep from the overwhelm
reaching out to change a word or phrase
we are all here
sometimes all at once
other times one at a time
I always think I know
who writes these words
this word right now
Until I look back
and don't recognize
words just written
I guess we are used to it
the wonder and startlement of
the unknown in me.
written July 22nd, 2021
I collect words
and try to fit them
to my experiences
trying to capture
this moment right now—
it is all I have.
I—looks at the page
and writes a moment
while others peer over her shoulder
shaking their heads
curling up to sleep from the overwhelm
reaching out to change a word or phrase
we are all here
sometimes all at once
other times one at a time
I always think I know
who writes these words
this word right now
Until I look back
and don't recognize
words just written
I guess we are used to it
the wonder and startlement of
the unknown in me.
Published 6th Aug 2021
Author's Note
Each poem, explores a piece of me. Some are written for the fun of writing words, others, for the hope of writing me.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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6th Aug 2021 11:10pm
7th Aug 2021 1:07pm
7th Aug 2021 1:16am
I like the ambiguity and an idea that the words are living and breathing, themselves.... we might just be along for the ride... lol...
Terrifically penned introspection.
🌹 - B
Terrifically penned introspection.
🌹 - B
7th Aug 2021 1:08pm
Anonymous
7th Aug 2021 5:53am
This is real nice, very enjoyable.
Reminds me of what Eliot wrote: these fragments I have shored against my ruin.
Yes, the poet collecting words, fetish-like in their fascination & the power imbued to them by the poet.
Then the poem, like a caterpillar's cocoon spun, the poem only an occasion to embed the magical words into an object, to preserve them.
Really nice!
Reminds me of what Eliot wrote: these fragments I have shored against my ruin.
Yes, the poet collecting words, fetish-like in their fascination & the power imbued to them by the poet.
Then the poem, like a caterpillar's cocoon spun, the poem only an occasion to embed the magical words into an object, to preserve them.
Really nice!
7th Aug 2021 1:11pm
This comment, makes me think of so many things. I am fascinated by poetry, poets, the writing of poetry. Thank you for taking the time to reflect and share your thoughts. They made my morning more interesting.
28th Aug 2021 10:14am
