Scribbles from my notebook  [+ favourites] [- hide]
Someone reminded me not long ago that I used to write poems. And I haven't done that for so long, in fact not since the last one I posted here on CC.
So I sat down with a notebook and decided to try it again, and though what came out was small and silly and still disregarding of any kind of formal structure (which I would be over the moon about being skilled enough to able to write in someday) I still felt pleased at the feeling I get from playing with words and sounds, or trying to at least.
So here is my effort for today.
1.
A bird cracks the morning open like an egg
the yellows spills out, pushing me forth
bleary-eyed from the shadows of my bed
through my window the wind carries in it
from somewhere across the lot,
a world humming small stories
of
old cars that are grumble-grumbling
hordes of strangers talking, walking
trees with fingers, creaking, speaking
the chorus of a symphony,
a familiar morning song
of
children sweetly singing, grining
a million chimes a-tinkling, spinning
cell phones loudly ringing, begining
the chorus of a symphony,
a familiar morning song
of
friendly dogs that are barking, marking
crazy parents shouting, clouting
Me in my bedroom laughing, dancing to
the chorus of that symphony,
a familiar morning song.
[ Edited by vigil at
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