Friday, February 6, 2015

Purge

When I've fed on the dark
and I'm full to the throat,

my relief
my antidote

is prairie grass fingers, swallowed -
choke,

purge,
and call it poetry.

For Ella's prompt at Real Toads

24 comments:

Ella said...

Wow, this purge is strong and powerful!

Bravo, on your word binge that ended up
short and mind altering magnificent.

Enigma said...

"...and call it poetry."

Your poems always end on a very powerful note. Great work with the prompt. :)

Fireblossom said...

Hemingway famously said that writing is easy; you just sit in front of your typewriter and bleed.

Björn Rudberg said...

Only in pain the poetry is truly born.. or what we call poetry..

Wolfsrosebud said...

that did sound like it hurt... a little heart and soul

Gillena Cox said...

purging of mind and soul; that's a good way to go with your poetry process

much love...

georgeplaceblog said...

another gem

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Brilliant. And I love Shay's reminder of the Hemingway quote. Exactly!

Gail said...

Oh!!! I sometimes "puke" poetry too. You did it beautifully!!!

Thanks for stopping by to visit.

Kenn Merchant said...

Very dark, and yet holds some significant meaning to being a writer. I've choked on my own words before.

Jazzbumpa said...

poetry puddle splash
a spewing of bile salt words
from a bilious soul

that makes it sounds as if i didn't like it

but really i did

namaste
jzb

kaykuala said...

One has to go through some bits before it emerges! Rightly said MZ!

Hank

Hannah said...

Oh my goodness...for me, I see an awesome and twisted painting or manipulated image...a being actually releasing the prairie from their guts...spilling grasses and lavender alike. Powerful, MZ!!

manicddaily said...

Yikes---But I think you are more of a sword-swallower (upchucker), which is why the edges are so sharp! k .

Susie Clevenger said...

Purging, such an apt word for creating poetry. Beautiful

Kerry O'Connor said...

It is a positive purging if the full force of pent up frustration can be turned to poetry.

blueoran said...

Peril of loving the night's devour, one becomes a mooncheese addict. The metaphor of binging on the dark and then purging it in poems is perfect. The eloquence of night pure upchuck in our mortal hands. One of my faves.

angieinspired said...

'Purge,' and 'prairie grass fingers' resonates.

daisy the blue-eyed river said...

This is incredible. A bulimic poet. Isn't that the truth? ... viewing your own writing as vomit. I love this! Especially the way you combined your place of home with the finger-force that makes you puke.

Really, I can't get over how perfect this is. I keep reading it again and again.

Heaven said...

Terse, sharp & beautiful birthing of words MZ~

Grace

Margaret said...

and it rises within you in a rush… No sweetly sung music or daffodils floating on a breeze for you. Although, I KNOW if you put your mind to it, you would be good at any style of poetry.

Susan said...

Who would imagine you wrote bulimic poetry! No wonder it comes from your gut! Thank you, MZ.

my heart's love songs said...

the words you "purge" are always amazing!

grapeling said...

indeed ~