What kind?
Deterioration in old age?
Alcoholic self-destruction?
Suddenly losing one’s mind
in a classic nervous breakdown?
Does a poet rot on the page?
Do the words turn wildly
incomprehensible, or
just banal? At what stage
is one seen to be writing rot?
Does a brain rot mildly,
or in a dramatic burst?
Does it short out, bang!
just like that, or turn over idly
with not enough spark?
Does it jerk about first
like a landed fish flapping?
Does it crumble obediently, or shout
in defiance, ‘No! Do your worst!’
as it disintegrates?
Will the rot catch me napping
or will there be signs?
Will sense leak away quietly,
or pulverise, as from the zapping
of a rapid-fire weapon?
Perhaps all these lines
of repetitive questions
reveal the truth already,
as the poem defines
a sad lack of fresh thinking?
When the ideas don't flow freely, I turn to form. This is a Weave, a form invented by David James.
Written for Friday Writings #161 at Poets and Storytellers United, where Magaly invites us to incorporate the phrase I've used as a title.
I hear you about using form when a dry spell hits. I use the 55, since it's shorter. I don't know that repetitive questions are bad. after all, we listen to the same songs again - why not ask the same questions?
ReplyDeleteGood point! In fact I have been told that keeping a question open is more useful than shutting down all further possibilities after arriving at only one answer.
DeletePS 55? I am most intrigued, always keen to learn new forms, but cannot find this one via Google.
DeletePS2 Don''t worry, I checked it out at your blog and discovered it is a 55-word poem — which I take it is the only rule.
DeleteNot all I say! Your mind is sharp, pithy and far from fading - Jae
ReplyDeleteI'm very glad you think so!
DeleteThe light shines brightly. Don't let the occasional dry spell get you down!
ReplyDeleteThank you, that's very kind of you.
Delete"Does a poet rot on the page?" "At what stage / is one seen to be writing rot?" - your brain is doing just fine if it is asking these terribly important questions. I've been asking myself similar things, not so coherently of course, just wondering....in times like this, what is a good poem...a good poet?
ReplyDeleteMy questioning comes more from wondering if I am deteriorating with age. And of course it so hard to assess one's own poems until some time has passed after writing them.
DeleteRot is such a funny word. One of those that the more I say it the more it doesn't seem real. Rot not!
ReplyDeleteMay we all rot not! (To me it s a gruesome word, conjuring up horrid mages of decay.)
DeleteThis one scares me a wee bit. Okay, a lot. I've asked myself versions of these questions after every chemo cycle. At what point, indeed... I'm hoping for not exactly ever.
ReplyDeleteI can imagine that must be a very real and present fear! I'm happy to report that no rot is showing in your writing yet.
DeleteNo evidence of rot about this poem.
ReplyDeletePK
Ha ha, thank you; that's good to know.
DeleteI love your analogy to the flopping fish, and the questions are relatable.
ReplyDeleteYou certainly do not have brain rot. Your writing is always wonderful.
That's very kind; thank you.
Delete