On August 19, I did a small prose reflection while at the North Carolina shore. This was just as I began my little website. I was doing much the same as I usually do as a writer. As most of us do, I suspect. Notice something, feel something, sense something, gather words and images quickly in our heads and as soon as possible get them on paper, or as in my case on any scrap of paper, gasoline receipts, bills, napkins, magazines, etc. Some of us even develop our own weird form of shorthand. This has always worked for me unless I’ve waited so long to find the scrap and start the piece, I can no longer totally make out my own shorthand if I was writing too fast at a scribble. A shorthand scribble is counterproductive. Anyway, I digress, I think. In my posts tonight I seem to be digressing all over the place.
As a writer, I find that little prose reflections may turn into poems. Not literally perhaps. Sometimes almost. But most often the poem will begin with what the prose will say as a poem, but then it doesn’t. It leads us from one reflection to another as the poem develops. I’ve spoken several times about the mysteries of each of our writing processes. My own writing is not rooted in one way of doing. I think that’s true of most of us. I had sensed that a poem might come from this little reflection. Shortly after visiting NC, three of those early few reflections did turn into poems. Today I read that August 19 post on shells. I copied and pasted it onto a Word document and started. It was one of those fun writing times. Having a hint of idea, existing words and phrases to play with, a gathering of further thoughts and ways of expressing. I loved doing this. Loved it. Isn’t that one of the most wonderful things about writing? The rare moments when everything just comes, and we just enjoy the whole experience? Of course, I thought, reflected, revised, but revised fairly quickly as I wrote. And then some as I considered the whole poem. A beautiful serendipitous afternoon. To treasure. Because these experiences are rare for me. Will I revisit this poem? Of course. Will I revise it further? I don’t think so. But perhaps. As for now, I’m ready to share. The poem is titled Enough. I’m publishing it in a separate post. Interestingly enough to me is that unintentionally I have written a poem that I have been trying to write for a chapbook in process. Now that is serendipitous. I hope you enjoy.