It is not with the lyre of someone in love that I go seducing people. The rattle of the leper is what sings in my hands. Jane Kenyon

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

THE POET WRITES

THE POET WRITES


“There comes a time in every person’s life when essential stock-taking becomes necessary-one thinks, reflects and writes as if impelled by something from deep within. No, this is not hallucinatory or even visionary but simply necessary. It is almost as if one writes to exorcise, get rid of something dirty which has been gnawing away and which has always demanded articulation.” Kirpal Singh in ‘idea to ideal’.

The throbbing of creativity
will no longer lie dormant
in the volcano of his heart.
Creation will answer Creator,
this inferno will erupt
& splatter the white of paper
with the lava of words.
Pick up these molten voices,
liquid fire will lay waste
the dead leaves that litter
the garden of your past.
You will be set aflamed
yet not burnt,
consumed yet unscorched.
Stand afar, a spectator,
not a hair will be singed.
His words will be no more
than flickering embers,
soon to embrace frozen darkness.
No phoenix will arise
from their ashes.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Writing a poem is firstly dying to your self and the from the ashes arises the phoenix who is not you, but something bigger, a metamorphosed 'you', the familiar strange......