For Sunday Whirl: Wordle #8
Why Morning Pages
Both treasure and trash. Trick
lies within sorting of this
from that. Strange kinship,
this marriage of words to paper.
No really enchanting stories,
or even promising bold wish
to be alluring. Some days, no more
than mutilated, mangled torsos
of poor poems rejected like this.
Bits, pieces of things seeking certain
completion, needing deeper sleep,
or inspiring bloom of delicate
lotus-like petals unfolding to be more
than devious plot with subtle desire
for enduring attraction, immortality.
Yet, continue to follow beckoning
carrot, constantly whispered chant,
Elizabeth Crawford 6/12/11
Notes: Thirty years of daily journals, one page at a time. And many mornings when I whisper, “What the hell am I doing this for?” For whatever reason the wordle words turned in that direction as soon as I read them. And this morning’s page has the beginnings of this poem written on it. And that answers the question of Why? Thank you Brenda for the weekly puzzle and wish you all the best at your new site.