New idea seeps out
from unconscious into forebrain:
“Here,” it says,
holding a crumpled sheet of paper,
“work on this for a little while.”
I sigh (inwardly, to avoid offence)
and smooth the paper
against a frost-chilled thigh.
“I have too many projects.”
“This is only a small one,”
says the thought. “Fresh paper
every day for a month.
Just one poem.
You can manage one poem, right?”
“Right,” I said. “One poem.”
One Poem
One Drawing.
One piece of art
One Demon’s blog
One flash fiction
and,
if I have time,
One chapter of my novel.
from unconscious into forebrain:
“Here,” it says,
holding a crumpled sheet of paper,
“work on this for a little while.”
I sigh (inwardly, to avoid offence)
and smooth the paper
against a frost-chilled thigh.
“I have too many projects.”
“This is only a small one,”
says the thought. “Fresh paper
every day for a month.
Just one poem.
You can manage one poem, right?”
“Right,” I said. “One poem.”
One Poem
One Drawing.
One piece of art
One Demon’s blog
One flash fiction
and,
if I have time,
One chapter of my novel.
6 comments:
I really enjoy reading your poetry. Your voice is original and authentic. I'll continue to visit happily.
Thanks Moonshark :)
Have you ever thought you are over taxing yourself? Too too much. But I love the poems and the photos and the wonderful pictures and the book and ......
gatstabl!!
I do, often.
But i like so many pretty things!
Next week the novel gets priority.
And a spare second to remeber breathing too.
This feels very much like a curse at times. And word recognition feels like a drug against headaches...
You're quite right!
Was I cursed to write, perhaps?
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