Something to think about

I began writing poetry on my own at the age of 12. Since then, I’ve written short stories, plays, news articles, a novel, and even a pilot for a tv show. Nothing ever feels quite the same as when the words of a poem fall into place, though. I worked on this one throughout the day; maybe you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

 

I’ve written of love.
Of the gentleness in a look,
the excitement of the first kiss,
the freshness of a hand-delivered bouquet,
the brush of fingers on an arm.

I’ve written of love, but –
Did you know these things could be spoken, as well?
I’ve been told as much.
I’d like to learn to do that, too.

I can write easily of how I am surprised every time I look in your eyes.
That there is something about your embrace that quiets and emboldens me at the same time,
of how a penny is too cheap for your thoughts,
and how the etchings of joy on your face make me smile without abandon.

I would like to learn how one speaks these things
when the breath has been sucked from the lungs,
when a stopper has settled in the throat;
How does one make an awestruck mouth form words?

Is it a skill learned with practiced words and years of fumbled lines?
Perhaps it is a skill that can be imparted with a kiss?

Maybe I can try to whisper them at first…
perhaps then the words will slip past myself, because
they can be spoken, too.
I’ve been told as much.

 

 

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