I envy the novelist, words
by the hundreds sliding fingertip
to screen, a playground of plot somersaulting
one sentence
to the next.
I grieve for the poet, whose
inert pen hesitates, immobilized
by the next word slipping though a fingertip,
monkey bars
out of reach.
I have yet to meet one I like.
Written for the Tuesday Writing Prompt over at Go Dog Go Cafe – using the two words “poet” and “pen”
Sooo so so true!!
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Ainβt it?
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Oh! The agony in poetic words…, so so true again!
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Thanks π
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I like the description of envy and grief without actually liking either novelist or poet.
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Very conflicted, aren’t I?
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The dichotomy of envy and awe!
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The power of muse versus that of the writer. The agony can be real.
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distilling mountains into teaspoons
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Ha! This made me smile! “monkey bars out of reach”–that’s the worst for sure! But, it appears you got your grasp and gave us this poem π
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You are caught on the horns of a dilemma, saying everything with droplets and breeze. I’ve always been attracted to the deranging midground between novel and poem–not healthy for sure, but whaddayagonnado?
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So relatable!
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Thank you for sharing this for OLN Phillip. Engaging read, and well written.
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ooooh yes….sometimes writing poetry, holding the pen to the page, thinking, writing a word…..and there’s a monkey bar chasm to get to the next line….especially in a prescribed form or rhythm! Great description here. Although….many a poet I do enjoy! But then, I liked taking acrobat lessons when I was young π
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Or perhaps I just haven’t met the right ones yet. It’s hopeful in the end …. maybe ….
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Perfectly said!
Thanks for your ‘Follow’ on my Blog π
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