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Posted by on May 2, 2015 in Creativity/Writing | 3 comments

Prose poem: Spyre

Maybe I’ll write when I’m inspired enough. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll write nice when I’m more fired up. Maybe I’ll just wind out word after word and finally find out whether what I lay down’s worth being heard. And maybe something that I churn out will turn out good, and I won’t have just wasted time placing lines and then being misunderstood. I do hope that someday I will have my say. And if I ever start feeling better I’ll part with some of the sentences I put together. When I finally have my health again I’ll be able to write like myself and then that’s when I’ll get round to scribbling down whatever the fuck it is I’ve been waiting for. And I’ll render something better than before, something that I won’t return to sender anymore.

Maybe when I stumble onto my muse, I’ll be humbled enough to consume every word she sends me. Me, I’ll feast whenever she speaks. Any word heard I will eat and once I’ve chewed ‘em all through I will reshape then repeat. And maybe if I choose my muse correctly she won’t wreck me, she won’t be cruel and upend me, instead I’ll become this fine tool and she’ll bend me. Then when she’s done playing havoc with my tongue, I’ll have a few sentences worth being strung. If I’ve got eyes which can find her I can get begun.

Maybe when I feel those elusive creative juices flowing I’ll get going. Yeah, that’s it. When I’m feeling original then I will. When the soil is fertile I’ll drill holes and fill those. I’ll grow prose and have a garden that blossoms all year ‘round. And when I’m finally in bloom I’ll take the time to exhume who I used to be and then and only then will I write myself out happily. When my seeds sprout and send leaves out, I’ll lean closer to the sun. When who I am becomes I’ll start rhyming my words for fun. But only when the time is right and the terrain is ripe.

Maybe when I’m in the right mood I’ll extrude all these words I’ve accrued. And maybe if I can get enthused I’ll be able to prove that what I write can be used. And if I’m feeling passionate maybe I can fashion it. If I can give form to my feeling I’ll convey what I’m meaning. But only if I’m in the right space. Only then can I write great.

Maybe if I can just persevere I can carve out something worthwhile here. Maybe when I’m motivated or when I’m ambitious, I’ll get something created, I’ll get something finished. Maybe if there’s this catalyst which assists, some spark which jars my heart, then I’ll start. Maybe when I’m inspired enough I’ll write some stuff.

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3 Comments

  1. This is very unusual but I liked it. I think the return to sender part needs to be changed because it doesn’t make much sense, but the rest is good. Why is it called Spyre?

    • I’m not particularly attentive when it comes to naming my poems. Most of the time I simply end up forgetting why I chose the name I did. In this case, however, ‘spyre’ is simply a shorthand misspelling of ‘inspire’.

  2. OK, now I’m really impressed, Dane. This could so easily have been a self-indulgent mass of clever-clever words instead of a prose poem, especially the part about growing plants, which is a well-used theme and could have been cliched – but you nailed it. Bravo.

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