Poetry, Fiction, and Photography
I. Indoors; outdoors
Outside; inside
Sunlight; tubelight
The poet must choose
II. Lights on
Lights off
The glow of the computer illuminates
the poet’s minds
III. Turn to a fresh new page
Clean, blank –limitless
Grabbing the pen,
the poet begins
IV. Look out or look in
What do you want to see?
Tell us, poet, what inspires
you?
V. Write
Imagine you are a poet.
Forget everything else
Poetry is your calling,
for these next few minutes
Can you describe it?
What is the point of a poem?
Of poetry, in general
Do you know?
Does anyone?
A poet looks out at the world
Takes in the world; breathes it in
And lets out meaning; Writes meaning
Meaning is life;
What the poet
sees, hears, does
from his glasses
His point of view
Your point of view.
Can you do it?
Should you do it?
A poet reads
No he devours
Others’ works
Reads to steal
Not the superficial language
Not the words that are on the page
A poet’s theft is far deeper –more meaningful
Thoughts and ideas
An idea
can change everything
An idea
is a poet’s strongest weapon
A weapon to cause
change
A weapon to cause
what he wants
Pablo said, ‘Bad artists copy,
Good artists steal’
What kind is a Poet?
This road’s going somewhere. I don’t know where, but it intrigues me so I’m going to follow it. The literal road I’m on is third avenue and that has definite destination that most of us know. Right now I’m headed back home. And that is a road I sure as hell want to follow. It leads to the most important thing in my life, at this very moment in time. That’s my bed. Sleep. The very thought of it makes me feel all soft inside. I taunt myself with images and thoughts about getting into bed under the nice warm covers and surrendering to sleep. God knows that this is a battle I fight every day. And he must know why too because the answer eludes me. I want sleep. I crave it. And yet when the time comes, the final moment when I am ready and I have decided that it is finally time; the time for sleep has finally arrived, she runs away from me. I picture her laughing at me. Giggling gently, thinking about me as some poor sod. It is a nightly dance, that Sleep and I, we partake in and she is constantly leading. I try to fight back, to grab control of the reigns and lead, because I am supposed to lead, and yet my efforts are futile. She is in total control and I struggle to think back to a time when I was in total control. The very thought seems idiotic. But I haven’t yet gotten to that stage yet. I’m still walking back so it hasn’t occurred to me, just as yet. I pretend as if I don’t know that I’m about to take part in this dance.
Everyday is a new, fresh day.
I tell myself.
..in November?
“Will 2025 be anything like today?”
“I feel like I need some coffee. Even though I don’t feel tired at all. I want coffee. I feel like I need. Does that make sense?”
“How do you know what you want? Is it a thought, hmmm I want that. OR is it an insatiable urge. I need that!”
“To be sure that I remember how to write, I often sit down in odd places and just write. About anything.”
A blank page lets you write what you
want
A blank canvas lets you paint what you
want
A blank room lets you decorate it like you
want
A blank house lets you design it like you
want
A blank office lets you organize it like you
want
A blank world doesn’t
exist
A blank life lets you change the one we live
in
A blank _______ lets you do whatever you
want
Just choose a
blank.
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Time passes us by
When we aren’t looking
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
The key is is
that life is too short
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Yet we still play these
Games
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
We can’t ever cut
right to the chase.
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Don’t ever look
at the clock
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Waste your time
playing games
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Do that, and
your life won’t ever come back.
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Go. Waste.
That’s what we all do.
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Waste. Those precious
Seconds.
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Seconds that can
change your life
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Completely.
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
And Forever.
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.