When I've fed on the dark
and I'm full to the throat,
my relief
my antidote
is prairie grass fingers, swallowed -
choke,
purge,
and call it poetry.
For Ella's prompt at Real Toads
Friday, February 6, 2015
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About Me
- Maude Lynn
- Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days. ---Flannery O'Connor
24 comments:
Wow, this purge is strong and powerful!
Bravo, on your word binge that ended up
short and mind altering magnificent.
"...and call it poetry."
Your poems always end on a very powerful note. Great work with the prompt. :)
Hemingway famously said that writing is easy; you just sit in front of your typewriter and bleed.
Only in pain the poetry is truly born.. or what we call poetry..
that did sound like it hurt... a little heart and soul
purging of mind and soul; that's a good way to go with your poetry process
much love...
another gem
Brilliant. And I love Shay's reminder of the Hemingway quote. Exactly!
Oh!!! I sometimes "puke" poetry too. You did it beautifully!!!
Thanks for stopping by to visit.
Very dark, and yet holds some significant meaning to being a writer. I've choked on my own words before.
poetry puddle splash
a spewing of bile salt words
from a bilious soul
that makes it sounds as if i didn't like it
but really i did
namaste
jzb
One has to go through some bits before it emerges! Rightly said MZ!
Hank
Oh my goodness...for me, I see an awesome and twisted painting or manipulated image...a being actually releasing the prairie from their guts...spilling grasses and lavender alike. Powerful, MZ!!
Yikes---But I think you are more of a sword-swallower (upchucker), which is why the edges are so sharp! k .
Purging, such an apt word for creating poetry. Beautiful
It is a positive purging if the full force of pent up frustration can be turned to poetry.
Peril of loving the night's devour, one becomes a mooncheese addict. The metaphor of binging on the dark and then purging it in poems is perfect. The eloquence of night pure upchuck in our mortal hands. One of my faves.
'Purge,' and 'prairie grass fingers' resonates.
This is incredible. A bulimic poet. Isn't that the truth? ... viewing your own writing as vomit. I love this! Especially the way you combined your place of home with the finger-force that makes you puke.
Really, I can't get over how perfect this is. I keep reading it again and again.
Terse, sharp & beautiful birthing of words MZ~
Grace
and it rises within you in a rush… No sweetly sung music or daffodils floating on a breeze for you. Although, I KNOW if you put your mind to it, you would be good at any style of poetry.
Who would imagine you wrote bulimic poetry! No wonder it comes from your gut! Thank you, MZ.
the words you "purge" are always amazing!
♥
indeed ~
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