I Am Words

I am words and sentences and paragraphs compressed into my sinews, paper scraps stashed between the pleats and folds of my life.

I am diamond hard-edged words that tumble from my pen on a streaming string from my brain to fingertips.

A marching column of ants, letters flow from one to the next and can no longer be blocked by the dam of oppression, coercion, embrace, and they lead me out of childhood confusion, love’s labyrinth, the mad maze of malignant married manipulations of memories and moods.

I write as rescue, as creation, as proclamation and declaration of independence and existence and selfhood, no longer erased, scratched out, deleted but inked and printed and Arial Bold and true.

Sometimes words and phrases roll around in my head, usually while I’m driving. First I collect them, then I take out one of my all-time favorite books, a thesaurus, and the fun begins. (I should do a book review one day. I just might!) Call it word play or creative experimentation, expressing a moment, feeling, or realization. I guess I feel a little shy about calling anything I write a poem. But I’ll call this a free verse poem. That’s how I read it here on Rebecca Hussey’s article on types of poems.

Once upon a time by Fathromi Ramdlon from Pixabay/filtered from original
Wood block letters by Michael Schwarzenberger from Pixabay/filtered from original
Writing by Free-Photos from Pixabay/filtered from original
Lettered hands by lisa runnels from Pixabay/filtered from original