Cascade Poem

He melted hearts
He wanted the love
I wanted to give

Wide eyes saddened
Chin wrinkled in earnest
He melted hearts

Tears welled and spilled
tiny hands clenched
He wanted the love

My heart broke in itty-bitty pieces
Each piece fed him the love
I wanted to give


The first stanza holds the last lines for each following stanza… Fight to Write!

I probably took an hour to write this. It took seven attempts to get something that was even vaguely serious. I had to get off the computer and scrawl on a large piece of paper. I drew a picture of the structure to get it into my mind. Then filled the structure with nonsense, to find out what I didn’t know. Then came up with a formula. Filled in the formula with nonsense. Then made a serious attempt and did some editing to paint the picture smoothly.

My daughter looked at Ace Baker’s poem and wrote a four-line set of stanzas, straight off, awesome, in a matter of minutes. (See it on her blog, Radioactive Eyeball) My son grumbled about having to do poetry, carefully looked at and analysed Ace’s poem, and wrote a three-line set, awesome, in a matter of minutes, and posted it at Shaquin’s Blog. Am I feeling less than awesome? YES!

I enjoy figuring out the structure of things, and sorting out a formula.

I enjoy creating pictures – I turn off the rest of my mind, and things flow easily.

Doing this stuff? Is like paddling against the flow of the whitewater. It almost rips my arm off.

Short-term memory is needed in a certain area of the brain where pictures are not made. I have some trouble with mine! I am proud of my effort… and yet somehow wish to spare myself the pain. Long term memory will kick in, and my structures and formulas will stand by me as trusted friends, once they have hung around long enough to be accepted as more than passing acquaintances. That means writing every day.


I commit to the pain.

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