I have never claimed to be a poet...

[ikyrian]

It's mostly because despite an insatiable love of words I can't get them out of my head and written down. It's like there's a disconnect between what's swirling in my brain and what I can spit out at any given time. (This is usually most apparent when Travis is spinning out one of his infamous tales and I'd like to contribute but can't find a way to get out the words in my head out of my mouth. In a coherent and funny fashion.)

ANYWAY, what I'm trying to say is, yeah, I'm no poet (and boy do I know it) (SHUT UP it's pun-funny), but I wrote up these five lines (and rewrote them and rewrote them and SHUT UP) and I actually like them, in my own amateurish way. I don't think it's perfect, which makes it not-poetry according to my high school senior (re: College English) professor, Dr. Kasik, who always said this about poetry: Poetry is the sum of perfect words perfectly placed in the perfect order. Or something like that. All I really remember is the "perfect words" part.



She opens the window against all reason
to the cool winter air and night-music
of wind chimes and silence conducted by
an unseen hand, gentle and strong,
as a father teaching a daughter to dance.

EDITED VERSION 8/3/08

She opened the window to the cool winter air and night music -
wind chimes and silence – conducted by an unseen hand,
gentle and strong as a father teaching a daughter to dance.

Comments

[esthompson.livejournal.com]

ooh, I like it.