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on poetry, itself
by Kate SwearingenIt comes in waves -
days that words seep through every fiber
and hasten to move the lead,
rough scratches like urgent whispers of truth.
And others yet where thoughts are obscured
drawn out on threads and muddled in insignificance.
Flood or famine, still, the results remain -
continuous drops of candor
a map of constant change
through dependence, liberty, fear
inner strength, uncertainty.
The tone shifts, the road bends,
and the you’s of yesterday don’t connect
to the I’s in words today.
Only through time
persistence and time
can we see the waves shaping the shore
each one erasing what was
cleansing
and creating anew.
01/19/2010 Author's Note: It's always revealing to go back in time and read old poems...
Posted on 01/20/2010
Copyright © 2024 Kate Swearingen
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 01/20/10 at 02:54 AM Yes and though we may change a word here a line there the thought frequently stays the same. I sometimes think all these words are our attempt, not unlike those who sat in the caves of Lascaux, to get a handle on some rational in our existence. |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 01/20/10 at 04:57 AM Kate, you touch here on the reason why I actually never edit poems -because to me they allow for a look back at what I was thinking and feeling and going through at a particular time, how I have grown and changed, how I have stayed the same -you really capture the essence of the process, the pondering and the perception...nicely done!! |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 02/20/17 at 12:30 AM Oh yes, and to the 'you's' what does one say as we rarely if ever know who they are. There are more things to consider here than most realize. But let's face it, few if any really care! |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/20/17 at 06:25 PM Really an elegant look at the process. Thanks and congrats on POTD! |
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