Ink Thinking

In Celebration of National Poetry Month (April)

I enjoy writing poetry, though I am little more than a novitiate of the poetic craft, a tyro in training. Why poetry? I am drawn to the mystery and magic of words, and the rhythm and rhyme of verse and form. Perhaps it’s the folk song lyricist in me, but meter, beat, assonance, alliteration, rhyme, and all the wordcraft of classic poetry resonates in my spirit. So when I write poetry, that’s how it usually comes out—as structured and metered word-song. My poem below is like that, and yet there is also a freedom, flow, and tension, suggesting the inner conflict and anxiety of writing to form, and the point-counterpoint of poetically crafting a concept. I know I will never be a “working” poet, nor do I want to be. But I will always be working at poetry, simply because of the joy of wording.

 

INK

Ink, I think, makes permanent

the fleeting thought, the not yet sure

the awkward word still insecure

the raw emotion--captured, still

naked, held against its will

 

Ink, I think, is resolute

Indelible, unyielding, firm

but I am not, I dodge and squirm

and hide from thoughts I ought to face

smudge the lines, line out, erase

and pencil in with tepid lead

the limpid grays that can’t be read

so words can run if given leave

and thoughts demur, if they please

 

Ink, I think, does not forgive

so I resist, I feint, recant

and only then with trembling hand

take up the pen to flay my soul

to make the marks so sure, so cold

so fixed and fast, so resolute

so permanent, no substitute

imprisoned in pigmented lines

of shiny black, forever mine

no rued regrets, no half a heart

no looking back, no second starts

the line is drawn, the die is cast

the deed is done, the moment passed

no changes now the deal is sealed

no mincing words, what is revealed

is cast upon the writing wind

the ink is dry ... it is the end

 

Resigned to fate with bated sigh

the mighty pen I cast aside

but then a thought, a word, a grin

and hastily I pencil in

and once again

of ink

I think


(c) 2014 Clay Clarkson