Poetry, Wordplay

Poem

dream it
see it
write it
type it
print it
read it
Stop, erase it.
stretch it
pull it
raze it
shred it
tear it
flip it
Scan, revise it.
drown it
save it
dry it
clean it
court it
chase it
Perverse, seduce it.
feel it
feed it
dress it
strip it
coat it
glaze it
Taste and crave it.
crown it
flaunt it
shine it
love it
see it
say it! I am a writer!
There,
now it’s a poem.

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Free Write

And

And so it goes. THis is my second post and I decdied to do a freewrite on the word, “and.” It’s a conjunction and a three letter word and it links a clause to another clause and another idea to another idea, creating this string of thoughts otherwise known as stream of consciousness, I really hope I spelled that right, oh I did! No red lines haha that’s a good sign. I was always told never start a sentence with the word “and.” And I think once you know all the rules, you’re allowed ot break them. I wanted to do this freewrite for about 7 minutes and I don’t remember what time I actually started typing. I wanna say I started…3 minutes ago. I just realized what a slow typer I am. Freewriting on your computer is definitely a differnt experience than writing on paper with a pen. I find it easier and at least when I’m trying to write a thought down, I can think of another. Just the other day we did this freewriting exercise in class and my hand cramped so bad, I thought I broke or sprained something in my hand. Look at that, the word “and” is in the word hand. A-N-D. Such a simple word, yet just as important as any other word. And rhymes with sand and band and tanned and land and grand. So many beautiful words created from another word and they are all intertwimed in each other. I’m looking at all the words I just typed and I can see at least one other word that can be recognized without mixing up the letters. It’s truly amazing when you see or notice the small things in life, including words within words and appreciate how they come together to project your thoughts and ideas down on either pysical or digital paper. Annnnd my time is up…

Poetry

End

She trots across the room
with baby blue jeans and pink shoes
with bulbous brown eyes she looks up at you

with glossy lips from the spoonfuls of squash
you feed her, I see it now, her lusc-
-ious kisses stain you with blush

a never ending warmth
like the first sip of tea or broth
or the first sunrise to welcome the new month

and with every sunrise, the sun sets
day after day it rests
to remind me it’s

the end,

her trots
my thoughts
her gloss-

-y lips that can’t talk
her pudgy legs that won’t walk
all for reasons I cannot

comprehend or begin to explain
the anger, the rage, the frustration, the pain
it boils, it emulsifies, it defiles, it reverberates

throughout the empty, dark corners of me.
We never met you but we love you, our sweet honey bee.