Ink runs from the corners of my mouth

The universe has been telling me to write lately so I'm trying my hand at that. It's a strange journey since I write everyday but never with the intention of it being read, except for the sparse additions to this little scrapbook here. But it's a great new challenge and I'm trying not to psych myself out about it.

So here's some great poetry. None of it mine, just great inspiration.

A Blade of Grass

You ask for a poem

I offer you a blade of grass

You say it is not good enough,

You ask for a poem.

I say this blade of grass will do,

It has dressed itself in frost,

It is more immediate

Than any image of my making.

You say it is not a poem

It is a blade of grass and grass

Is not quite good enough.

I offer you a blade of grass.

You are indignant.

You say it is too easy to offer grass

It is absurd

Anyone can offer a blade of grass.

You ask for a poem

And so I write you a tragedy about

How a blade of grass

Becomes more and more difficult to offer

And about how as you grow older

A blade of grass

Becomes more difficult to accept.

-Brian Patten

Wound Cream

Perhaps it is the way Love’s promoted;

You’d think it came in a jar,

Something that could be spread

Over all that bothers us,

A heal-all, a wound cream,

A media promoted fairytale

Gutted of darkness.

Though its contradictions

Nail us to each other

And the hunger for it

Can be our undoing,

We still use it as a prop,

As proof we are living.

How hard to do other than

Give it precedence, forgetting

How friendship outlives it,

Commits fewer crimes,

Wears its name at times.

-Brian Patten