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Posts Tagged ‘verse comes tumbling’

When a line of verse comes tumbling

Over the falls of your mind,

(The first line’s always the hardest)

Then another line’s not far behind,

You’ll find yourself “a fumbling,”

To find paper and pen and ink,

To grab that, that line unique,

Before it keeps on tumbling

Down the river of your mind,

To be forever beyond reach –

Your mind may ne’er be able

Again to grasp this feeble “fable,”

Only once will it be so near the beach.

When you awake tomorrow,

You’ll find to your sad sorrow,

That the thought of last night

Has quickly flowed,

Past the bends of your fluid mind,

And the idea you saw quite “kind,”

Is now completely out of sight.

How works then the poet’s mind?

How does he verse seem to find,

Where prose writers mine them not?

Poets sometimes find them unsought

Ideas and how to say them,

Come in different ways;

To some men they seem to come,

As often in the night, as in the days,

As these lines have flowed,

Down the river of my mind,

And sought outward expression,

Of a weak, poetic kind.

– eab, 1/3/07         

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When a line of verse comes tumbling

Over the falls of your mind,

(The first line’s always the hardest)

Then another line’s not far behind,

You’ll find yourself “a fumbling,”

To find paper and pen and ink,

To grab that, that line unique,

Before it keeps on tumbling

Down the river of your mind,

To be forever beyond reach –

Your mind may ne’er be able

Again to grasp this feeble “fable,”

Only once will it be so near the beach.

When you awake tomorrow,

You’ll find to your sad sorrow,

That the thought of last night

Has quickly flowed,

Past the bends of your fluid mind,

And the idea you saw quite “kind,” 

Is now completely out of sight.

How works then the poet’s mind?

How does he verse seem to find,

Where prose writers mine them not?

Poets sometimes find the unsought

Ideas and how to say them,

Come in different ways;

To some men they seem to come,

As often in the night as in the days,

As these lines have flowed,

Down the river of my mind,

And sought outward expression,

Of a weak, poetic kind.

                – eab, 1/3/07

Read Full Post »