Where are you gonna run to? Type and run. The word as bullet?Screeching off into the distance... license plate just out of reach... oh, those words.
It's been a long time since I've thought of a particular metaphor for what words are.
Words are always reaching into what is disappearing.
Or perhaps are expelled at the last moment from the ultimate mystery.
I'm writing a poem, how about you? It's fair if we use our own words in other words but not each other's words...
They flirt, promise, offer, take you almost all the way there, and then slip off into silence, perfume left by the moment that just passed.
Words tumble, collide, roll, quiver, they never STOP.
They slide under the tongue, sweet as .............. oh, okay. You talk.
Later, we can retrieve them from this rough draft and polish them into bracelets that we can wear while we dance.
wow! love the fluid motion of this poem... the visual drama. hot! and also very cool! snowsparkle
ReplyDeleteThis is loose and fun, Brenda. I enjoyed the variety of metaphors, shooting off like sparks, and that you never tied back to the silk directly. Slippery and smooth as silk with, as Snowsparkle said, both warmth and coolness!
ReplyDeleteSnowsparkle, Thank you and I'm glad you liked it. xo
ReplyDeleteMB, yeah, the title came after deciding what to take for a photograph to go with it. It's all of a piece, huh. Thank you... xo
Red Chinese Silk
ReplyDeleteJ'aime beaucoup cette photo !!
Je suis allé plusieurs fois au VietNam , en Thaïlande , au sud de la Chine .
Les femmes font des broderies extraordinaires , aux couleurs très belles , et souvant en brodant le tissu à l'envers !
Jean, welcome...
ReplyDeleteYes, the beauty under the nimble fingers of the embroiderer-
I would love to see some of those embroidered textiles.