the poem within a phrase shows up maybe a title it won’t leave begs to root burrows then gestates often for weeks then comes the dive— not just down, but deep into the carnal compels, requires embodiment I sort through hunches feel through to the quiet for precision words by their rhythm taste texture scent weight a wicked labor, between pushes I let the thing rest then work with it breathe with it rest again until the shape reveals finally, what it is
It is what it's like. Not just for writing poems, but I chew on ideas, phrases, titles, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks or longer. It's all the process of writing to me. xo
Yes, that's what it's like 👍 👌
My new favorite Amrita poem! Lovelovelove this... "a wicked labor," indeed, the poems, leading to "finally, what it is." So nicely done!
I felt this did express my experience! Glad you liked it!
How beautifully said, Amrita!
Forgive me for my busyness and for not thanking you for your book of poems. Am loving it.
Hugs, Pen
That makes me so happy, Pen, that you are enjoying the book. Glad you liked the poem. I like this one, too., because it reflects my experience.
Beautiful!
Thank you! It felt true to me.
It is what it's like. Not just for writing poems, but I chew on ideas, phrases, titles, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks or longer. It's all the process of writing to me. xo
Yes, exactly. That happened to me with the memoir and novels I wrote, as well.