placement of self requires a choice on land, in imagination or a feeling of expectation: matted down tall grass, smooth beach sand, an empty bench, a seat at an ice cream shop, fourth in line for a donut, next in line for a ride on a roller coaster. bolstering pride dusted ego singing to a branch busy bouncing in the wind. grab a hold of me, whispers the tree, i have a story to tell.
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Does a poem always have to mean something? Can't it just be there to read and think about for whoever reads it? I don't want to alway have to explain the significance of the lines I write. I use words from my emotion zone, not an explantion dictionary.
So here goes. I wanted to release a chaotic sense of not placing myself where I want to be. Things I want to accomplish are being side tracked by other things, as important, but not necessarily in order of importance. The result is a need to write, sort out where I am compared to where I want to be.
Before writing this poem, I sketched from a photograph of mine, a cedar waxwing bird with a crabapple in its beak as it sits in the comfy crook of a crabapple tree. In the photo are light lines everywhere. I realize as I draw, they are the empty stems from the picked and eaten crabapples. The story continues the life of the tree and the bird, and this poem. I am where I am meant to be.
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