You Can Write About Anything #2

  You Can Write About Anything #2

With roots ‘down to your boots’;
To hints of red tints farthest away.*
Themes have essences, nascences:
Theses coming into being
With potential and emergence:
Non-existent yet existent.

With signs of future, links to past.
Every theme a non-thing that may last forever;
Everything a something that was never.

Paradox, anomaly,
That smudge may be at once
The only thing that has an ounce
Or ring of being and continuance.

Never mind how bright or pallid –
It’s all valid,
If you think it, write it!

With the right to be expressed.
Make this right your crest,
Your emblem, crown,
The light that you reach up & down for.

Write about the things you’ve known,
Thoughts that groan, words on loan
All of which from which you’ve grown.

You write about
No matter what,
With no peculiar quirk ruled out.
Good or bad,
There’s nothing more that I can add.
You Can Write About Anything 8.21.2022 Circling Round Existence; Circling Round Everything; Arlene Nover Corwin
*the furthest light in space we see has a red tint.
**(especially of a process ) just coming into existence and beginning to display signs of future potential: the nascent (early 17th century: from Latin nascent- ‘being born’, from the verb nasci).

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. DAVID
    Sep 15, 2022 @ 13:51:25

    “Anything”
    By
    DAVIDALEXANDERBROWN

    What if I could write about anything?
    My existence,
    My fight,
    My legacy,
    My pain,
    Anything?

    Like sunlight or shame,
    How about love:
    That Jezebel that stole my heart,
    Her touch,
    Her smile,
    Her gentle sway…
    What about the time I prayed?
    With tears in my eyes,
    Weakened by my shame…
    Lord,
    I whispered crawling on my knees,
    “Take this day away”
    Should I tell you about the hate that filled my heart when I was betrayed…
    No…
    How about the time I laughed so hard the breath in my lungs ran away…
    Anything,
    Really,
    Anything?
    I remember,
    When I opened my first real, store bought birthday present,
    My mother saw my joy and she cried, her tears brought tears to my eyes,
    I still remember her face…
    What about the time I lied or wanted to die or fought to live!
    I can write about any hour, any moment, any day…
    How about all that stuff I can’t contain?
    There is this mask on my soul hiding a primal scream…
    Are you telling me this act of release is evidence I am free?
    I can write about…Anything?
    “Anything”
    By
    DAVIDALEXANDERBROWN

    Like

    Reply

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