Swing Set

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

The joy of creation,
can only be known,
against a backdrop of sedation.

The pains of the artist,
with too much to say,
are dulled through the mind’s masturbation.

* * *

The seasons turn swiftly,
seeds planted… some grow,
while others rot trapped in hard clay.

The life lived tomorrow,
so seductive and bright,
forever outrunning today.

* * *

Serpant selves shedding skins,
twice born in a day,
thin shells and old eyes never missed.

Once catching a glimpse,
of a muse waxing high,
pulling with it the tides of our bliss.

~r

other submissions by thinayr

2 Comments

  1. damnjordan says:

    I like your most recent works! It seems you have been holding out on us. It is quite the gift to come back to WYH and find some new material waiting. Your poems are enticing mental puzzles, and I always enjoy trying to disentangle them from their surroundings. Some people do crosswords, or play Sudoku. I read Stover-poetry.

    “Swing Set” in particular has grabbed my attention. Your lines are straight forward and crisp, which seem to cut to the matter. I feel like the brevity of this piece is a bit of a departure from some of your previous work, in which you create strong imagery through descriptive details. This one feels restrained, but in a way that creates tension. And again, your imagery is as vivid as usual, but this feels personal and introspective. There is a burden here that is carried with creation, and the speaker seems hesitant to elaborate. It is really a captivating poem, and I have gone back to reread it several times. I feel like I have a grasp of the overall theme of this piece, but the third stanza alludes me. I’d like to hear your thoughts on when you penned it.

    karma Thumb up 0 Thumb down 0

  2. thinayr thinayr says:

    Thanks for the thoughtful feedback (as always, almost more fun to read than the original writing!)

    I think the “tension” you perceive is connected to the fact that it has been 3 years since my last post…

    The first part of this poem was me setting out writing for the first time in a LONG time and trying to connect the dots as to why I haven’t been creating anything.

    I somehow realized that the periods of mental-stasis are the backdrop against which creativity stands out. That said, I am guilty (as we all are) for taking the easy way out on a daily basis… “I will be creative when I can focus on it… now on to waisting time!”

    The second portion is a broader reflection on how many projects get started but wither away from lack of attention. Especially at the moment I was writing this I was dealing with some pretty major depression concerning how entangled I felt in the WORK that demands my time = life. Never start a business unless you really like trading time for possibilities.

    The third part, which seems to have thrown you a bit, was a product of the writing of this poem itself. Ten minutes before I was stagnated and frustrated… by the time I got to the end I was again the Empowered Creator.

    I particularly liked the pun of “Old eyes (I’s) never missed”… : )

    Amazing how quickly the whole world can change based on your actions!

    And look! We are being creative again : )

    karma Thumb up 0 Thumb down 0

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