In which Your Humble Blogger's feelings about writing after a long day just bubble over. Egads, that is one bubbly, bouncy rhythm there:
"The Distant Subject"
On days that I've spent having fun,
It takes such an effort to write!
As if I've been given the choice
Of living a bit of a life
Or letting my pencil describe
What living a bit might be like.
And night becomes tense with the task
Of tying it all down to words.
The painter lets breath move her brush
As if this is the only way
That she and her model might kiss.
* * *
What started out in my head as a throwaway poem at the end of a day out ended up being one of the little snapshots that I like more, mostly for the fact that the last three lines end the poem in a different place from where it started. Also, with this one, once I had written the first two lines and noticed that they had the same rhythm (da-DUM-da-da-DUM-da-da-DUM), I decided to push myself past my default tendency of just writing in syllabics and try to make the rest of the poem fit that pattern, too. Eh, so I fudge it in the second-to-last line a little. I'm sure someone, somewhere, has also felt the need to stress the word "the" in a sentence. ;)