Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

When I discovered words, I knew not what it was I'd see
but shortly found the words were me.
.
.

There are many nobody will ever know though
we shift from meaningful to meaningless and guessing
games to names which have gone down in literary history,
no matter how many we have missed or who have existed,
this is how we navigate between the ones we know and the
ones we'll never know, between the lines of philosophers and
the cries of novice poets, pens bleeding words down the page,
click clack taps on a keyboard staring in a screen, the ones who
say what they mean and the ones who don't even know what they
mean until after they write it or while they write it, if at all,
and I hear the call of nouns and verbs echoing the empty night,
watching the lights in their heads turn on and off again, off and
on again, like a beacon the words call and meanings seep in
and out, out and in, endings coming and then again they begin,
the words, the continual words, the minds of others spilling down
shoulders, through arms, into fingertips, making metered and unmetered
love to the blank page by filling it with the absurdity of words which
mean one thing to one person and another to another and nothing
to someone else and I am as grateful as an urchin finding my way home
to the metronome of phrases and thoughts, the patterns and rhythms,
the insistence of meaning (whatever it may mean if anything at all)
and so I stall for a moment to take a break between the minds which
have opened like books and I'm stuck looking, peering in, daring
myself to read more and more and more for to do so is to grow and
hopefully to know, after all, what it is to be human, but what is it?

superb work Doreen....this poem churns with determination....the rumbling of thoughts and words and what they mean, if anything...yet this thing we can't leave alone late in the evening...early in the morning...this urge to express the movement in our minds

you have captured that reality....for many writers, we can't help but wonder if in the end anyone will have even noticed how many hours we devoted to this desire to say something...

I think this poem says that....of course as we know, I could be way off in left field with my descriptions of how the poem affected me personally...ha ha...that's the beauty of it though

we create art, and turn over to the readership.....we think, we write, we relinquish

wow, you had quite a rapid fire posting spree last night...Ive been there...ha ha

keep 'em coming

I didn't write all the ones I posted in one night. Haha.... I write fast, but not that fast. Sorry for posting so many at once.... and thank you, Steve!

I don't like the first two lines. I think I'll remove them. They're unnecessary.

yeah, those first two lines are a good poem alone, though I must say the part about you finding the words were you was a real hook into the poem for me....it's up to you of course, but kinda like them set apart from the body of the poem like that...separate, but together

that's my 2 cents.....( uh, maybe should should be, that's my 2 grand, these days .....to keep up with inflation )