This Writing Business

This Writing Business

 

“This writing business is a mess.”

That’s what a friend of gifts expressed.

An isolated matter – but so what!

So’s cooking, washing, and the toilet!

Not impressed with words she owns,

Groaning with all right that no one

Buys her tomes,

Reads her poems,

Listens to her authored tones

With proper ear and cultured judgment,

She is geared to non-fulfillment.

 

Such a drag! And oh, so wrong!

When really, she should sing a song

About the gifts of art devised

To share the cries of wisdom gained

From stuff ingrained

That ripple out in spreading rings.

They’re called ideas. Oh yes, they sing.

One must confess

This writing business is a mess,

So where and how and even why, success?

 

Conditional, transitional, residual, vestigial:

Vermiform appendix that lies in the mind

Behind the eyes,

Wherein a kind of soul bakes pies:

An inner self that metaphysicists insist is true;

Original, complete and love-filled you:

The highest, worthy, in my view of ‘highness’.”

‘Fess up, what’d you do if you could write

Not one small note in black and white?

Or in these days of laptops,

What if fingers froze,

And all techniques for writing closed?

You would be pissed !

Not a proper business,

Writing may not earn a dime,

But it’s a triumph all the same.

Believe this dame and

Put that in your pipe and smoke it!

 

This Writing Business 10.4.2016

The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative:

Arlene Corwin

 

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