Suzy Davies's Blog: Book News - Posts Tagged "struggles"
Limitations (Inspired by The Line: The Pen is Mightier Than The Sword)
“I know my limitations,” she said.
Her eyes were honest,
and she shook her head.
So many lines,
so many lines
rehearsed, unsaid,
and crumpled paper,
that blew - confetti,
yet still, unwed.
“To begin, again, is almost unthinkable!”
The specter of polite letters -
the “not quite there” comments,
that made her sink into despair,
crack open the wine,
and celebrate -
magnificent failure, alone.
She flits about the room, a moth,
dives for another plot, another character.
An open door, a newly arrived spectator.
“I need to be alone to hear the voices, Diane.”
The door closes.
She begins to begin, again.
Another chapter, and she’s lost.
Lost to the book, that tells her to give up.
“Just let them write themselves.”
She hears the voices in her head
and feels that it might crack.
A siren outside, interrupts her train of thought.
And from the sash window,
revelers, in the street, run, amok.
“Just get it done” (and it will be enough.)
She types the characters, plods through
the sentences.
She gasps for air. Goes outside.
She walks the forest, alone at night.
An unknown shadow’s at its heart.
She reaches in her breast pocket.
She knows her limitations,
takes the knife,
and draws blood.
Copyright Suzy Davies 10/01/2017. All Rights Reserved. No Copying.
Her eyes were honest,
and she shook her head.
So many lines,
so many lines
rehearsed, unsaid,
and crumpled paper,
that blew - confetti,
yet still, unwed.
“To begin, again, is almost unthinkable!”
The specter of polite letters -
the “not quite there” comments,
that made her sink into despair,
crack open the wine,
and celebrate -
magnificent failure, alone.
She flits about the room, a moth,
dives for another plot, another character.
An open door, a newly arrived spectator.
“I need to be alone to hear the voices, Diane.”
The door closes.
She begins to begin, again.
Another chapter, and she’s lost.
Lost to the book, that tells her to give up.
“Just let them write themselves.”
She hears the voices in her head
and feels that it might crack.
A siren outside, interrupts her train of thought.
And from the sash window,
revelers, in the street, run, amok.
“Just get it done” (and it will be enough.)
She types the characters, plods through
the sentences.
She gasps for air. Goes outside.
She walks the forest, alone at night.
An unknown shadow’s at its heart.
She reaches in her breast pocket.
She knows her limitations,
takes the knife,
and draws blood.
Copyright Suzy Davies 10/01/2017. All Rights Reserved. No Copying.
Published on January 10, 2017 10:36
•
Tags:
freedom, poetry-noir, self-actualisation, struggles, the-shadow-self, writers, writing
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