Phone ringing in an empty room
Frozen to a chair, she can only keep watching
A light, an idea, dies in a shadow
white raindrops fall on an empty page
black ink and my blood are one and the same
While my heart yearns to end this loneliness
Is it cold where you are?
Wind rushes by as a needle drops on the tile
despair, distraught, I bring disaster
Lighting mingles with my rain-soaked thoughts
I jump
To return behind the golden windowpane
Where off in the distance,
a Phone rings.
Author notes
I wrote this during a workshop with poet Robert Hass. It's based off African people's work songs, where one person calls out one line and another calls out the next line. The second line is relevant to the first line, but the two are not necessarily directly related. It's very subtle, acting only on what the persons mind came up with at that time. The first line was the prompt. After writing the second, I'd look back down at my paper every five minutes or so and write a new line, looking at only what was on the last line that I wrote. I cheated on the last line though. that one I planed. I like how it turned out though.
Comments
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thats neat! i like it. thats a cool style. i wish id gone to that workshop.
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thats cool. and it flows really well.
*High Five!* -
Hah! So, how was that workshop?
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