Cowgirl Interlude – Literature: The God, Its Ritual

Literature: The God, Its Ritual
Merrill Moore

Something strange I do not comprehend
Is this: I start to write a certain verse
But by the time that I come to its end
Another has been written that is worse
Or possibly better than the one I meant
And certainly not the same, and different.

I cannot understand it–I begin
A poem and then it changes as I write,
Never have I written the one I thought I might,
Never gone out the door that I came in,
Until I am perplexed by this perverse
Manner and behavior in my verse.

I’ve never written the poem that I intended;
The poem was always different when it ended.

*****

*giggle*

I learned this poem in high school. Same time I learned the next one.

Ann

*****

your poem, man
edward lueders

unless there’s one thing seen
suddenly against another–a parsnip
sprouting for a President, or
hailstones melting in an ashtray–
nothing really happens. It takes
surprise and wild connections,
doesn’t it? A walrus chewing
on a ballpoint pen. Two blue tail-
lights on Tyrannosaurus Rex. Green
cheese teeth. Maybe what we wanted
least. Or most. Some unexpected
pleats. Words that never knew
each other till right now. Plug us
into the wrong socket and see
what blows–or what lights up.
Try
untried
circuitry,
new
fuses.
Tell it like it never really was,
man,
and maybe we can see it
like it is.

* Thank you to the author of
http://www.wordplayground.com/other_authors.php
where I found both of these little ditties!

Side-Effects of Clarity

My friend, Steven, says that “Success is a side-effect of clarity.”

He’s right, you know. 

Anywhere I am not experiencing “success” (and what does that mean anyway? When am I not a success?  Ever?) I can rest assured that I have some corresponding lies, stresses, foggy thinking or misperceptions of reality.

I noticed that I haven’t written a blog yet this month and it’s the last day of the month. 

Why is that?  Well, I haven’t had a lot to say.

There are no dramas, issues, concerns, or opinions that I just had to put fingers to keyboard over. It’s not that I’ve lost the desire to write, or at least I don’t think I have. It’s just that I haven’t had so much to say.

Also, I look back at what I’ve written, and while it isn’t terrible, I have a clearer perspective Now on a lot of it than I did Then.

I was reading a book last week and the author mentioned a similar thing. He said that by the time he got his words onto paper, he had already gone deeper or found something truer. Something like that, yes. That’s what it seems like.

So, do I continue writing and just let it get truer and not worry about my misimpressions of the past?

Probably. It’s a blog, after all. Authors evolve.

Love, Ann