As some of you may have noticed, I have been reading "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. Her writing style is unlike any I have read before. She flows in and out of normal construction and into a beat poet prose. It took me a lot of time to get used to. I know its only 200-something pages, but, I've found myself savoring it. I read maybe a chapter a day, like a bite of fine chocolate. Somethings just aren't meant to be gobbled down. In fact, I'm not sure much is.
All that said, I keep thinking in her way. I keep having poems flow out of me, even about washing dishes. I had a fairly epic one the other day in fact about how wildness is often found in silence for me. It was gooood. Too bad I don't remember it. I think tonight, though, my thoughts are disjointed enough to try it out. I'm not sure how this will work in written form for me. Also, please remember I'm a newbie. I hadn't really experimented in this until I started reading this book.
*Deep breath* Here we go.
ghost fur curled at my feet
dog hyper finally asleep
mind is full of so much nothing.
center quiet despite all floating
ebb and flow like wind in window
curtains covering, flimsy paper.
temperature, house, high,
filled with warmth of humans.
storm filled moments passed,
thunder roaring, lightening flashed.
atmosphere is clear, safe,
heart yet still unsure.
heat rises quickly meeting cool,
words like thunder, tones like lightening.
flashing, energy still palpable.
candle flickers here now later,
flame burns low, adding light not fire.
gentle fragrance,destruction bringing beauty.
all to be gone by lights death,
sleep, sleep to fall,
Oh awaken mercies new.