We held hands as if it was second nature and, words that
needed to be transferred, struggled in wanting to be simply
seen by those walking by the display cases of every store
or boutique in town; waves of crowds staring transfixed in
questions as to why I [poet] refused to maneuver the ink and
quill (well, in this case, an ink-pen and notebook paper).
Teachers informed us, to scribble just a few ideal brainstorms, while another set group preferred self inspiration from the familiarized surroundings- we've done neither.
By some insight, the already entangled brain, thought, "Why
not simply find words no one else knows and use them?"
Sounds plausible, but workable.
How? How could I produce so these weeds would stop in mid-growth and pay attention long enough to hear the rustling of pen moving on notebook paper? Are we [poets/writers] to simply dissipate as if we're merely glass containing the inner workings of being-
Perhaps this relation has yet to be seen upon printed attributes in some wayward form of translated non-sense; metaphors and other devices to spout while the eyes are easily glaring as to what the commotion--disturbance is being relayed beyond the cracked window; punctuation, in itself, seemed just as the crowd...
...endless and forever travelling.
For now, I think it has become the time in which the ebb and flow of flesh upon concrete is stared right back leaving only an impression as a somewhat faint, distant memory.
Author notes
FYI: This is a form of prose called Confessional
In a list
A contest entry
- Prose by Envelope.
800 points, ended August 25, 2007, 11 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - prose poetry by obfuscate.
333 points, ended May 20, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - prose, please by Randomly Beautiful.
300 points, ended June 16, 2008, 5 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 17 of 17
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This is decent, and the first one I've gotten that actually is prose poetry.
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how completely true this feel, really what are we but hopeless wanderers, nothing could have said it better than this amalgamation of sheer poetic brilliance and clever writing
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How are the therapy sessions going for the self absorbed? Apart from being a cure for insomnia I can’t think of another purpose for this self obsessed doodling. I found this incredibly tedious to read and ‘leaving only an impression as a somewhat faint, distant memory.’ Apart from its tenses shifting, some punctuation being all over the place, edit and tighten this piece because it has the embryo of a worthwhile poem. You need to get a greater hold of your reader and keep them focused without too much dawdling.
David
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Had to stop by and re-read this piece! You never disappoint when your pen meets paper. I love the design of this introspective write! Exceptional work!
~Lori -
Um...That chair looks quite familiar!
There is telling written in these lines although you still manage to keep within yourself what it is that you are exposing, as if you are hesitant about revealing too much. There's mystery, and allure in this work Poet. It's funny (not ha ha) but my daughter and I were just speaking on the phone (she lives in Miami) about how we have a tendency to share only 85% of ourselves to anyone. The other 15% is ours and NO ONE will ever be privy to that portion. This poem makes me ponder many things;
"By some insight, the already entangled brain, thought, "Why not simply find words no one else knows and use them?"
Are there any such words?
There is movement in this writ, although it makes me feel quite settled and stationary. The identifiable factor is; writers from ever range, from every skilled-class, level should be able to fit the pieces of the puzzle together face-down when pen and notepad are in reaching distance.
A very astute poem is written here. This confession had to relieve you of some words that needed purging. Excellent!
Much Love ♥
Renee
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This was just beautiful.
This was just beautiful. The flow was flawless. I felt every pause and acceleration in this piece. I could hear you reading it in my mind. I heard every inflection of tone, synchopation of rhythm and deliverance of point. I heard the subtle gestures of breath accents. I heard... spoken word, all in this piece.
I guess I had fun listening to you read it to me... in my mind.
Thanks.
John
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I think this is really nice, check spelling in L4 and I'm not sure of the purpose of the brackets in spots. Other than that is fine...
al
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stop making me think, it is making my brain hurt, lol, but i like this poem keep it flowing, i know there is more to tell.
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But But ....that's sooooooooooo fun to do to you
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Ah yes, that premonition that something is to come; a poem no less. Liked this write; great thoughts on where poems come efrom and what poets are. Used to seeing other kind of poetry drom you, so this is quite a unique read. Check (an) in last line of first paragraph.
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granny, that has been fixed now and I'm glad that you like my confessional poetry style
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"struggled in wanting to be simply
seem"
does that make sense?
You use comma's in an odd way in this piece, though it's probably intentional.. it works in a way.. breaking up the sentences,
I like this piece, it made me think.. very nomadic, but at the same time it doesn't move anywhere.. it is made of thoughts, that aren't still in any ywa.. but seem to circle one another..
I hope writing this helped things make sense to you a little more. -
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Thanks, and I see exactly where you are coming from
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very good
You must put a lot of thought into this. You used your words well. A pleasure to read somethiong so new and different.
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thank you. it's a form of poetry called confessional peotry
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Fabulous! Very interpretative of what lurks as ink on the pages of every writer's endeavor's. I've yet to give this confessional form a try, but you're convincing me that I must! It seems to be soothing to reader, so it has to be a balm to the heart of the poet. Wonderful work!
~Lori
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Blushes
Thank you glad you enjoy it. Time to feature this puppy
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