Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Wordsmith (Poem)

Wordsmith

Like a cat cat-tapping,
the poet fills in

the lines between
beginning and end,

her computer's hum
breaking keys' rhythm

as the mouse transmits
its winking warning

of energy critically low.
She scrolls the screen,

remembering what it was
like, scratching a nib

against yellowed onion
skin, bleeding from carbons

her editor's cold code,
making every syllable

count. On this page pulled
into a conceptual cloud,

white space consumes
and saves no less. Delete

holds no mark of meaning,
though, leaves no nub

fixed in the worn-down
eraser: trace encounter

of red lead-free pencil
with bitten biting edge.

© 2012 Maureen E. Doallas
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9 comments:

jen revved said...

Exquisite, exquisitely playful, Maureen. Wonderful alliteration...xxxj

hedgewitch said...

A perfect poem about writing, where words are almost artifacts, objectified on one hand as the tools, then miraculously employed in the actual job of work, simultaneously. Not easy.I especially like the final image, biting, bitten.

Pat Hatt said...

Such a fun weave of words and yeah delete is rarely seen for one never knows what could come as they write away.

signed...bkm said...

from pencil to computer...delete, scroll no marks left...both concepts of the wordsmith felt in your lines...bkm

Brian Miller said...

dang that red editing pencil...it bites me often...smiles... a great reflection on writing maureen...

S. Etole said...

This takes me back a ways.

mrs mediocrity said...

oh, yes, i could feel this... wonderful!

Frank Watson said...

Nice expression of the poetic process, like floating clouds of meaning.

In a vapor of words
The electrostatic charge
Molds sound from syllables


(btw please remove the CAPTCHA, it's difficult to enter a comment)

kkkkaty said...

I like "cat tapping"..8 nersens