Catch a Creation

Cool colors, calming inspiration, visceral magic and feelings unknown, cool vibes, dissipate too soon.

Autumn, winter, summer rain, dawning while exploring each other.

I’m sprinting within these seasons, these ideas, holding them close until they are too far ahead.

They come together making no sense to the logical mind.

Cool colors and collaborating seasons are just drifting by as these passing thoughts, glimpses of a creation to be born.

Fretting won’t save them.

They’re running faster than I could.

Reaching and sprinting, I’m so close to catching these precious thoughts.

I’m so sure creation is coming, soon, even though I’m too slow.

5 responses to “Catch a Creation”

Scrunch Foldington

April 12, 2020 at 2:07 pm

Well done, that ‘sprinting and reaching’ feeling is exactly how I feel looking at a blank page. That, or just flailing around with a metaphorical butterfly net trying to catch my own thoughts. I also like the subtle touch of having ‘dawning’ and ‘creation’ worked into the poem itself, that’s a clever touch. 🙂

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1. BrittnyLee
  
  April 12, 2020 at 6:58 pm
  
  I didn’t even think of the dawning and creation thing. Hah! Wow. 🙂 thanks!!!! Yes we’re all leaping out of our heads and skin. 🙂 Also I did not know magpies could remember faces. That’s so cool. I love those birds! They’re neat. Thanks for your awesome comment and stopping by 🙂 Hope you’re having a great Easter!
  
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Woodsy

April 14, 2020 at 12:56 pm

I sometimes find myself wondering whether some of the most precious stories are destined not to be caught or written…
not to settle themselves into bookshelves.
Perhaps they are things too visceral,
meant to be flown,
perhaps tbrough a few words scrawled here and there across a page,
like kites,
tweaked enough by our sentence strings to share some sky with us.

This piece took me to the place of kites.

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1. BrittnyLee
  
  April 14, 2020 at 3:10 pm
  
  Awww thank you!
  Let’s go fly a kite, send it soaring to where only Mary Poppins flies. Go to the stratosphere letting our worries disappear and our souls join with the woodland creatures, the lithe things that dance and sing and recite poetry, whispering to each other through scraping branches and wind blown trees. 🙂
  
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The Eclectic Contrarian

August 25, 2020 at 12:27 am

You really are pressing me to start another poetry blog. But I have seemed to promise myself not to…

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