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nat-lipstadtPoems
One composes a poem, in a singular fell swooping, the words, previous, unknown in that particular order, are felled like trees in a ****** forest, newly saddened, an emptying and simultaneously fulfilling sensory battle, a dressing and an ********** and the poem (again) writes itself This literary body, literally is birthed with realized labor pains, actual aches, a pulsing pursuing, and you dare not stop to fix an errant knight of a typoe or an out of placed CapitalizatioN, lest the streaming be broke, mind's momentum be disturbed fiercely feared, lost to the vagabonds that exist solely for the express purpose of denying your self-expression One such poem, written yesterday (1), reminded me of another (2) composed, years ago, inspired by a ferry trip returning home, an ode to an old dear friend, a lover of the fulsome of life, who had recently passed away Twelve years passing, yet well remember, the utter urgency of its composition, the purging of the sorrow, and leaves me bereft, very sad, for after writing thousands of scripts, like a ****** obsessed, feeling in the quietude of a sleeping household, soon to be tumultuous with morning to and fro runnings around and about, a/k/a errands, wondering Where and Whence will come such a poem, my next fix(ation) a desired damnation of emotion, and fearing its potential unhappy origins 5:39am Wed Jul 23 On the island In the sunroom, shushing hesitation with chest pounding, mouthing my forefinger in puzzlement, befuddlement
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Jul 23, 2025
Jul 23, 2025 at 2:15 PM UTC
Once in an occasional while...(with each passing poem)
One composes a poem, in a singular fell swooping, the words, previous, unknown in that particular order, are felled like trees in a ****** forest, newly saddened, an emptying and simultaneously fulfilling sensory battle, a dressing and an ********** and the poem (again) writes itself This literary body, literally is birthed with realized labor pains, actual aches, a pulsing pursuing, and you dare not stop to fix an errant knight of a typoe or an out of placed CapitalizatioN, lest the streaming be broke, mind's momentum be disturbed fiercely feared, lost to the vagabonds that exist solely for the express purpose of denying your self-expression One such poem, written yesterday (1), reminded me of another (2) composed, years ago, inspired by a ferry trip returning home, an ode to an old dear friend, a lover of the fulsome of life, who had recently passed away Twelve years passing, yet well remember, the utter urgency of its composition, the purging of the sorrow, and leaves me bereft, very sad, for after writing thousands of scripts, like a ****** obsessed, feeling in the quietude of a sleeping household, soon to be tumultuous with morning to and fro runnings around and about, a/k/a errands, wondering Where and Whence will come such a poem, my next fix(ation) a desired damnation of emotion, and fearing its potential unhappy origins 5:39am Wed Jul 23 On the island In the sunroom, shushing hesitation with chest pounding, mouthing my forefinger in puzzlement, befuddlement
(1) https://hellopoetry.com/poem/5119168/within-your-violet-you-treasure-your-summery-words/ (2) https://hellopoetry.com/poem/376358/with-each-passing-poem/
#nhttpshellopoetrycompoem376358witheachpassingpoem
nat-lipstadt
Written by
nat-lipstadt
99/M/NYC/Lippstadt/Kraków
Jul 23, 2025
Jul 23, 2025 at 2:15 PM UTC
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