words

The Poem – Framing Words

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Moments
Pass in dusty ledges
Fingers trace mottled wood
And stop.

Breath a frame
By frame
SpokenĀ forever
Fall into the shape
Traced, held in wood
In mottled fingers,
Side by side moving breath
To breathe, in
Breaths motion picture
Framing words.

~IW~

This writing thing and stuff

1170 posts pending. 263 drafts.
What do?
Many a word there to find a place for.

 

It is this category thing screwing with me isn’t it?
I cannot recall why I put ALL my fucking posts as pending, though I think it was to try become vaguely more organised in it. That was the original intention of creating a blog over three (four?) years back, to have a place to put the poems and subconscious babble in some sort of coherent album type thing.

Now it is done, I don’t know if I should ‘undone’ it, or republish shit, or move along and let them be.

Though, one thing I DO know is blogging changed me and my relationship with people and the world, more than I imagined it could.
(for better hopefully, though in moments creating misery swinging oft toward elation…ffs. šŸ˜‰ )

Another three years then?

Another thing –

I started posting some of the poetry on InstagramĀ (It is fun a little, Kinda) :

 

Yes I realise I cropped it like a novice Instagrammer – that would be because I am one.

IW