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The Poetic Pit

The poetic pit opens like a yawning maw.

The lip is flaky and the fall steep

Unstoppable and endless.

It is a fate to be well-considered

Before dancing on the edge

Enchanted by the whiff

Of ancient Earth

And Mystery.

 

Words are powerful!

But they can be annihilated

By an arched brow - pursed lips -

A brazen sneer - a dismissive shrug!

Practised with purpose!

 

Words from antiquity now pursued with passion,

Once beset with the same  vagaries,

Can be obliterated by a careless chisel – a hard heel -

A slip in the sand - a skid on the slope!

Conflagration - accidental or deliberate!

 

Any of which can annihilate tombs

And tomes

Where ancient thinkers

Made the same driven leap to 'MAKE WORDS'

Especially in POETRY.

 

You are not alone!

Cynthia Buell Thomas, August, 2019.

◄ To Smite!

Wood Pigeon ►

Comments

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Raj Ferds

Thu 22nd Aug 2019 15:27

Looking at it from another dimension, dawn illuminates the period that preceds it.
And that space in between is where fertile gestation takes place. Giving birth to creativity. A spiritual journey of sorts.

Embrace it Cynthia.

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Robert Mann

Thu 22nd Aug 2019 12:40

Cynthia - I don't think you need a rest, as Raj suggests. not while you can produce little gems like this. The suffering endured is almost a requirement to produce the descriptive quality of the angst - the circle of creation? Just a thought. Keep going unless your sanity is being tested.
Rob

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Raj Ferds

Thu 22nd Aug 2019 12:07

Still, you said it all with the sign off line:
You are not alone!

What a way to end.

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Raj Ferds

Thu 22nd Aug 2019 12:03

Oh dear.

The erudite (and eminently talented) Cynthia needs a break, me thinks.
You don't need to apologise dear girl.
Just step away and 'let go' for a while. Come back to it when that inner voice tells you to.
Take care. x

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Thu 22nd Aug 2019 11:56

OK! I PROMISE: No more. Sometimes I'd like to knock my head against a stone wall. It just won't 'let go'.

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