Monday, March 5, 2012

259. Monday Part I

This is something I wrote at work today, while indexing files for federal storage. I was enthralled with rhyming for some reason...which isn't usually something I focus on.
_______________________

Crumbling towers
of sandy mortar
stand silent, watchful
give no quarter
Calm in countenance
as they may be
I'll claim nothing
to their centuries
The wind and rain
the salted air
steadfast they hold
that empty stare
True, in time
all things decay
the end has long
been underway
With dissolution
too, new life begins
hand in hand
as ancient twins
_______________________

I had tentatively titled it Castor & Pollux, but I suspect that sounds pretentious. It's probably better without any title at all. There were a lot of things I intended to say about it as well, but again, I think it may be better to leave it be. I will say that I have spent a lot of time thinking about originality lately, while simultaneously developing a hyper-sensitivity to being perceived cliche.
I hope that isn't the case.

Often, when I write, it's in reaction to music I'm listening to. I try not to borrow concepts too much, but I do have a habit of writing along with the rhythm of what I'm hearing. Later, when I read over it, I still hear the song I was listening to, and I think it can have the adverse effect of drowning out any potential for the poem to have its own voice.
That sounds idiotic, but I'm not sure how else to say it.

I did not write this to music. Nothing inspired it, and nothing influenced it.
That might be why I feel so nervous about the quality; I have no one else to blame.

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