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paper poems

“Take your materials from what is around you—if you see a dandelion,  
write about that; if it’s misty, write about the mist. The materials for  
poetry are all about you in profusion.” —Masaoka Shiki
 
 
i scribble some, unfinished,  
ere they should be diminished  
before my thoughts can shape them into art;  
their stain upon my paper  
cannot, like water vapour,  
conspire with wayward winds to blank my heart.  
 
i scribble some on handbills,  
while walking in the foothills  
or climbing mountains for a better view.  
vocabulary rations,  
unlimited in passions,  
swell well the lankness of my paper brew.  
 
i scribble some at random,  
lest they should hold me ransom,  
to perish them with thoughts i cannot hold;  
e’en in my pocket lining,  
though oft so damn confining,  
i smuggle secret lines ere they grow cold.  
 
i scribble some through teardrops,  
while hanging out in treetops,  
or sulking by cool ocean-seeking streams.  
my spotless-white handkerchiefs  
may capture lyric motifs,  
when pregnant rhymes drive me to mad extremes.  
 
i scribble some on silence,  
when, like a sharp demilance,  
a milton or a shakespeare of my own  
constrains me to be humble,  
lest all my inks should crumble  
upon the parchment, ere they rise, full grown.  
 
© Copyright 2024 May 13    
by Clyve A. Bowen♫
Written by cabcool
Published
Author's Note
Full photo credit to SpaceFrog Designs
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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