Sunday, September 21, 2014

i have to

“ugh, you write everything.”

well of course i do.
my mind is a jumble of words
letters twisting into fragments and phrases
that bubble up from hidden wells in the wrinkles of gray matter,
churning and bumping into each other, and
when i try to speak them,
the words tumble out of my mouth,
rolling across my tongue and past my lips in a ball of partly strung together thoughts and hardly coherent ideas, bursting in the air,
spewing in a million different directions and
sliding down the walls
oozing goop slipping away from my fingers
off of your face
where i just spat the unfortunate mess.

you poor thing.

but when i write them,
when i allow the words to flow from the mess in my head down through my arm,
as the words straighten out by my shoulder blades
squeezing past my elbow
and are finally released through my fingers
sliding through the pen and gliding out in the ink
shaping the black liquid the way they intend to rest, that.
that’s when it becomes beautiful.
that’s when i can make sense of the emotional mess that’s in my heart
that gets garbled on the way to my brain and doesn’t sort itself out
until it reaches the pen.

somewhere along my collarbone,
the tiniest sparks are slid in between the letters, gluing them together,
joining words just the right way so that they lay straight on the paper,
their message loud and clear on the page.
they take instructions from my heart, but the message takes a while to find them.
that’s why i need my whole arm, not just my tiny tongue,
that gets twisted and tied as it tries to wrestle with my thoughts.
they are gentle, my thoughts, not wild,
and my tongue is too harsh
chopping them up instead of molding them.
squeezing them instead of shaping them.

i have to write, don’t you see?

i have to understand.

Sincerely, mad


  1. I am crying cause I love this so much. Well said, well written,... well DONE!

  2. Writing is your gift and your passion! It is not mine, but that is okay because it makes me appreciate your gift, thank you for sharing. Love you Mal

    1. Thanks Sister Hoskisson! You're so sweet. Love you too!

  3. The tongue is too clumsy a tool;
    The cooperation of the arm yields sweeter fruit.

    Just a quick little verse I thought of based on that last stanza.

    by the way, this is brilliant! You become a whole other person when you write poetry.

    PS I stole your Powerful Writing Skills and Sherlock Holmes books ;)

    1. Thanks Ben! I'm taking you mean I become a different person in a good way... haha. And hey. Be extra super duper careful with that Sherlock book, or else...;-)