I write despite conflicts and anger I have inside I see no signs in my metaphysical plain where my stories reside away from reality where hope has died and where my aging body remains
I am homeless in liquid form dark in the depths of little horn I taste the drink of liquid ink black in dance, images perform letters adorned prickly and thorned
I again cast a light in the darkness of written word where only echoes are heard
I feel peace in poetry and story. Real world pisses me off. I understand the emotion of this poem. Hard to feel comfort when mind cannot rest. Thank you for the excellent poem.
Coyote
I simply love this.. I read it on the other site and loved re reading it here.. It takes the reader deep inside themselves ..submerged in their own echoes...their own thoughts.. well done..xo
i liked the off beat rhyme here, nothing too structured. as poets we have to free ourselves up to write, forget about the boring and the mundane and search for universal truths. i liked the way you described the process of writing poetry towards the end of this or rather what it is to you.
I am homeless in liquid form........I am a poet submerged.........fantastic! I have missed reading you Rene. My internet was down for almost a month. It feels good to be back.
Oh well when I read the title, it was like "submerged(?)"...but why,where,how? and when I read the end, it was like magic! yes indeed, we are all immersed in thoughts, so many thoughts that they overflow and vanish unless penned down, so its better that we submerge ourselves and retrieve one by one our thoughts from this vast ocean and preserve them ! this writing of yours can be interpreted in so many different ways and yes in your way too...every line in this read reflects poetry...deep and insightful :)