After curating thousands of word adaptations, thanks to I-Ching theory in writing practice. The poem I share today is written by combining some poor French translation, the reading of a recent book and blog by Jules Evans and the painful process of . . .
It’s ironic don’t you think, trust as you wish
To entrusted oneself without the Weeping
Willow, the apple tree bearing fruits, notebook
At the ready, pen to paper, push, and breathe
Breathing in, breathing out, the prodigy of a life
Photos encapsulate history, snap, click, wind,
Zooming through the ages, into digital snaps
The mind. Before we didn’t know – today – still
Helplessly responsible, susceptible to mimic
See, expressions, be conscious, conflict
An impending birth, speaking indirectly, no two
The same can be involved, amusement between
The spaces, from the universe words evolve
Hopping, Gnawing, Scratching, what’s reality?
What’s surreal? We must level up, become
Balanced a cycle I write about is inside me
Woken up, for each three springs, they come
Then they are gone, water, smoke, ice and fire
A hiding place that sucks the air through the
Drawing of one’s blood, first four pages, now
Written in French, build a damn before the flood.
Thanks to the music of Alanis Morrissette, the Radio, page 14 of le bebe and the self-awareness journals, and not to forget the children’s classic – Alice in Wonderland with which their essence combined to form poetic irony, today.
Julie Spencer, June 2018. Creative Writing, One Writer’s Progress