Creative Writing

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Creative Writing

Flat.
An endless expanse of white sand;
Not a soul in sight.
Point to it, Prophet Man,
     point to it!
          Point!

Dry.
Ah! And less. Lax. Pensive. Wise stand—
yet—they’re bones of white.
Speak to it, Prophet man,
     speak to it!
          Speak!

Flesh—
an end? Less expensive. Why tease and
toy with soulless might?
Breathe on it, Prophet Man,
     breathe on it.
          Breathe.

Sky—
and endless—expansive. Why, it is and
soulful. Dark and light.
Write it, Prophet Man,
     write it!
          Write!




2002

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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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Skoght’s Poems (9)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Questioning Poets 0
No One Listens To Poets 1
I Still Use Pencil and Paper 1
Unfinished mss 0
The Sculptor 1
Writing Haiku 1
Creative Writing 0
Caged Angels 0
From Poet to Poet 0

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