Sentiments trickle in bits and pieces to dangle like soap on a rope. Hanging around, just out of reach, till the right words come to breathe them to life. Precise and unexpected, at times they fit, chosen as I might choose the flawless petals of a perfect rose, the words to be glued in that same perfection into absolutes, those hoped-to-be unblemished poems from a blemished heart, -- a writer's humility for a reader's pleasure.
C.J. Heck
The Unwritten
Sentiments trickle
in bits and pieces
to dangle
like soap on a rope.
Hanging around,
just out of reach,
till the right words come
to breathe them to life.
Precise and unexpected,
at times they fit,
chosen as I might choose
the flawless petals
of a perfect rose,
the words to be glued
in that same perfection
into absolutes,
those hoped-to-be
unblemished poems
from a blemished heart,
-- a writer's humility
for a reader's pleasure.
(from the book Anatomy of a Poet)
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