"Those were hard things for me to come by, and I offer them to you for what they may be worth." - Toby Wolff

Thursday, August 16, 2012

The Birth of Dead Words

She writes, thinking that beneath the paper
she might find something tangible.
The tremor of her pen
shakes the page.
It looks alive,
but the words will either breathe
or they won't...
their lifespan having less to do with birth
than endurance.

Some words are so hard to live.
They wear down the epidermis
until she is all nerves.

Her words flutter wildly about the page
attempting to gasp...
to do something audible...
the buried alive, vying for notice.

I am here I am here

(No, I'm not sure what I'm saying here. The first two lines came piggy-backed on the last poem I wrote. That was a week ago. I saw them in my journal and started typing them in here. They added on to themselves, having something to say.  We can speak truth, but it has a short life unless we live it out. Difficult though. Living it, we'll find it truer, or less. In just thinking...we are never really sure.)


  1. 'We can speak truth, but it has a short life unless we live it out'

    annie, gulp, you've nailed this: all the wisdom a person would ever need to know in order to live, in 15 words.

    i've honestly found that in writing i've become more myself. far less bullshit; i don't give it the time. and when i happen to find the right word, it is like hitting a tennis ball just right--you know, the sound it makes when the swing is perfect?

    i'm asking less and less questions. that's been good for me.


  2. I often think about the endurance of words, and no matter how they were birthed, some you wish would die and some you hope will go on way past you. The ones you give away with all your heart to those you love, you hope those live and give life. At least, I do. Funny how a few sentences make me reflect, always when I read here.

  3. Great title. This is wonderful. Sometimes the most creative writing comes from the search, not being sure, letting the words find their own course. Love it…

  4. I love ur pic of the old typewriter. I love old typewriters. The title of this blog really drew my attention. I am searching to understand the meaning of death right now. My pup passed away Monday morning. And I want some understanding of what it all means our life and our death.

  5. I enjoyed this. Words and truth are synonymous in this way; living them will promote and perpetuate their meaning but all words are not truth. Truth lives on its own and has no relatives. It is often misidentified.

  6. Life's out there with a smile on it's face for you.

  7. "dead words"?,,,no,,,i feel a pulse...

  8. ohhkay, this might be hard to explain but... I am returning from a writing retreat or rather, a memoir festival, and one of the memoirists was a man I'm still fantasizing about - for many reasons, one of which is his love of poetry. and I thought of you. your words stay with me. i wanted to tell him about you but I couldn't remember your blog name at the time (I blame his sultry eyes).

    back to you...

    ... way down there. sadly, i know it well.

  9. Annie,

    I may have a little idea of what you say here...It brings to mind a comment i read from someone somewhere...or maybe its entirely something else...but it said..."it took me 6 years to learn how to read a poem..and another 30 to write one...it is as poignant as it is beautiful..but maybe not as much as it is true...

    1. Your comment reminds me of this:

      “It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.” ― Pablo Picasso


  10. My words seem to get lost before i can even put them down on paper...

  11. Ideas come so fast I cannot remember all the words in my enthusiasm, I need to slow down !

  12. Interesting in expression.

  13. Love how the picture connects with the post. Lovely!

    ❤Not Just My Allegories❤

  14. I honestly get this...the words are so jumbled inside right now. I wonder how much was ever really me. Oh, I know it's all me but I'm missing somewhere in there lately. Sorrow and peace have a strange way of co-existing in a heart. (Hugs) Indy

    (Miss you sweet friend)

  15. Walking the walk is always the toughest thing to do, for sure. Living our truths, instead of just penciling them into little journals to hide away from the rest of the world...

    I've been in a silent mood lately, not sure if that's because I've been so damn busy or what.

    I'm feeling finally, after another three week break, that maybe I have something to say.


Thank you for listening.