![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the process continues
2009-07-30 04:38 pmBack on June 16, I posted the following:
This is what a rough draft looks like:
I am the voice of the broken
walking a path of shards.
...token/spoken
...cards/bards/guards
It's something not ready to be shared, something not quite sure where it's going. Lines tend to jump in my head two at a time. This one had three, but the third didn't fit, so I'm setting that aside for another day. I think it's just going to be a very simple a/b/a/b single stanza poem, and I almost know what it's going to say. So I'll sleep on it, and if I'm lucky, the missing pieces will be in place when I wake up tomorrow.
More than a month later, I'm returning to it, but apparently it's still not quite tumbled. The last line is eluding me..
I am the bard of the broken
walking a path of shards.
I give voice to words unspoken
and something something guard(s).
For me, this is how poetry works. Grabbing at words, tumbling them around. Sometimes they come whole, other times in fragments. Sometimes they are forgotten, and sometimes they insist on be written. This poem is elusive, perhaps because it isn't quite sure what it wants to say.
This is what a rough draft looks like:
I am the voice of the broken
walking a path of shards.
...token/spoken
...cards/bards/guards
It's something not ready to be shared, something not quite sure where it's going. Lines tend to jump in my head two at a time. This one had three, but the third didn't fit, so I'm setting that aside for another day. I think it's just going to be a very simple a/b/a/b single stanza poem, and I almost know what it's going to say. So I'll sleep on it, and if I'm lucky, the missing pieces will be in place when I wake up tomorrow.
More than a month later, I'm returning to it, but apparently it's still not quite tumbled. The last line is eluding me..
I am the bard of the broken
walking a path of shards.
I give voice to words unspoken
and something something guard(s).
For me, this is how poetry works. Grabbing at words, tumbling them around. Sometimes they come whole, other times in fragments. Sometimes they are forgotten, and sometimes they insist on be written. This poem is elusive, perhaps because it isn't quite sure what it wants to say.