Fast approaches the time when
my mind says no
more, starts to go blank like
erasing notes from a chalkboard
they're gone from all recollection
beyond reach my thoughts swim
away in the gray matter to the place
in my brain I don't use
memory
where do memories go
after I forget them?
I need a flashlight to
show me where they're hid
what dark crevice they're tucked in
why do they run away
those elusive beasts
I prod in the dark
hands out, touching the walls
of my inner mind
trying to navigate the maze
where are they
why do they go
what must I do
to get them back
back
onto the chalkboard
1 comment:
Natalie,
I've been meaning to tell you that I really like your poems. I think you definitely have talent. I was thinking about what you said awhile back, about how you hesitated to start writing poetry because you "weren't good". And then realized that you didn't have to be good. . . so I came across this comment and thought you'd enjoy it:
Ray Bradbury once said the following about writing:
"For I believe that eventually quantity will make up for quality.
"How so?
"Michelangelo's, da Vinci's, Tintoretto's billion sketches, the quantitative, prepared them for the qualitative, single sketches further down the line, single portraits, single landscapes, of incredible control and beauty.
"Quantity gives experience. From experience alone can come quality."
-have a great one.
Sarah Lott
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