Sunday, 10 October 2010

A leeeetle-bit-of-poetry – Falling and Underworld

Found some more stuff from my creative writing course. A few poems that sort of wrote themselves while I was painfully trying to come up with narrative on the set topics.

Trip to the Underworld

Underbelly of the world -
Yellow-sticky and smelly
Like fish cut open with insides hanging out
We trail the steps of those before us
Leaving steps for those after us
The walk is slow and the sun is high
Steam rises from the earth in coils
The air moves and moves us ahead
Sand swallows everything
The sounds are muted
We are ghosts travelling in circles
Endless circles
And the poetry of death.


Frustration. Anger. Lie. Love.
Am I a fallen creature for loving and lying?
For being frustrated, angry with myself and the world?

Fallen amber leaves lying 
On the ground, on the water, on the stones.
Sad season and I am sad. 

Future awaits lonely, lost.
Did I curse myself, chose the wrong path
Or is it a force stronger than me?

Further ahead lights lit.
I let myself flow, free, reckless
Empty and ready to take in.
I let myself Fall.

Object from another world

We are shadows of the underworld
Throwing objects from another world
To the brightness of the other world
Separated by the worlds. 

We are whispering the underwords
To the ears of the other worlds
Stealing phrases from another world
All created by the word. 

Words form figures, so in other words
The creation of the other world
And the upper and the underworld
All that started with a word.

And the objects from another world
Are collected in the underworld
So the story of the other worlds
Can be written in the words.

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