Another

ANOTHER

Another page then
Savaged, ravaged

No pristine virgin
No fallow field

Tell me for why
Is it just rattling

The bars of the cage
Of this our language

Busy busy restraining
Our breathless words

For after all, for after all
Who was it, who was it

Put the me in meaning
Or the em in poem?

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About Ben Naga

Pilgrim on the lam. Please feel free to explore the links to learn more. I trust you will find some things there will have been worth the effort. See you there.

Posted on April 12, 2016, in Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 10 Comments.

  1. Knock knock whose there? Nice flow though a mystery.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. ohgosh, i can relate to these sentiments!

    Liked by 1 person

    • About writing? Life? Relationships? (Of course you don’t have to let on if you don’t want to. 🙂 )

      Liked by 1 person

      • Since you asked(!) – my take on it:

        Another page then
        Savaged, ravaged
        No pristine virgin
        No fallow field

        (Another page, another! Desire to write it down, to get it ‘out,’ and yes, it’s a passionate act!)

        Tell me for why
        Is it just rattling
        The bars of the cage
        Of this our language

        (Exactly. What prompts a creative writer to write? For the fun of using language? Or to rattle cages of another kind …)

        Busy busy restraining
        Our breathless words

        (This particularly is meaningful, for what people see of what I write is usually edited, edited down to a) clarify meaning and b) take out the piss and vinegar ;). And yes, breathlessly!

        For after all, for after all
        Who was it, who was it

        (In the end, does it matter? Especially if I sketch down some thoughts, later on when I’m ready to craft a piece, do I remember what/who prompted it, to begin with? Often, depending on time lapsed, ‘not.’)

        Liked by 1 person

      • Thanks for taking the time and effort to give me such a full and detailed reply. You clearly followed my train of thought. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  3. When nothing means something and the windows rattle like skeleton bones and tomorrow in a memory of the past and nonsense dances in a bucket of meaning and there is always this and that before willows weep on the backs of oak, then words spill out become what they aren’t as nothing does a double take while something reaches a conclusion.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Nice response. I would have replied earlier but my computer broke and then I went away for a couple of days. E-mail is still not on line but at least Firefox is back. I may even post one day soon.

      Liked by 1 person

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