Thought, or: Language

Thoughts are rolling 'round
My mind on language wheels and carousels
Building momentum
From the spin and leaping off
Into the air
Grabbing ahold of trapeze words
Hanging from lines of lexicon

On and on they spring and swing
Tumbling free 
Through whispering breeze
Then catching bows of gossiping trees 
Who mock as they are wont to do 
The argot of the rhyming bees
Who buzz so, flitting busily

Perchance parlance 
Sticks well enough, but
Comes a thought that finds no words 
In spin no words 
In flight no words 
In wind no words 
Within no words

And so such thought is never heard 
Nor ever seen 
Hopelessly dropping endlessly 
Clutching grabbing desperately 
For term unknown forever 
Cursing wordlessly
My untold limitations


Open Link Night

For today’s Open Link Night at d’Verse, I’d like to share a poem that I wrote in the summer of 2020, not long after I’d created this blog.

Self-expression continues to fascinate and frustrate me – both in general and with poetry in particular because I spend so much of my time conceiving new verses.

I question the extent to which I am able to convey what I intend at all. While it’s lovely that art is in the eye of the beholder, and its interpretation is, therefore, in the beholder’s mind, where does that leave those who hope to convey their ideas with any measure of precision?

Let’s write poetry together!

When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.

Ben Harper (b. 1969)

Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!

64 thoughts on “Thought, or: Language”

  1. Alas, I’m afraid to say, that no two realities are the same, we can only each of us add our little slice of perspective to the totality of the collective consciousness — Yet I can recognize your frustration as it resonates within me, and that feat alone, if it is not a miracle, then I don’t know what is.
    ~peace to you, Jason

  2. Your poem appealed to the wordaholic in me…the fascination for just the right word, and then dissecting the word and contemplating the word until it flies away into the ether and it’s off on the hunt again.

  3. David,
    How beautifully you capture the trapeze-like performance of words as they come until that moment of wordlessness! It happens, and it does leave you spinning mid-air.

  4. It is the problem of expectations. The wordsmith tries to forge words into finely wrought filigree wound around meaning. The poet tries to bend the words into a net to capture emotions. Then there are the in between artists armed with the text on rules of punctuation and a desire to gather the words like a bouquet of butterflies and release them into the sky. The wordsmith expects everyone to recognize the craft of their compositions, the poet want the reader to feel the words, and the artist desires the audience to gasp in awe. I expect nothing. I write for my own enjoyment. If others find emotion, beauty or meaning then I am satisfied.

  5. David, I really enjoyed the energy and movement you created with this one. A fun one to read aloud, building momentum through the third stanza, then slowing down with the fourth. ๐Ÿ˜

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