Words
Words
I moulded feelings like balloons
Into a series of unfathomable shapes
Was it a bursting heart, full mouth….
Or a sad, rocking crescent moon?
I did not know.
Only that I ran out of air
Trying to fill space with all I felt
Pulling new forms frantically from my core
To match emotions
But none could.
The best I could do, was words.
.
I stretched and rolled language
Upon my tongue
So it made intricate lace as it left my lips
Picking sounds that sizzled
Leaping rubies from my fire
Only for them to graze longingly
As hungry, empty foals at your bank
.
For what good are words
Stubby old antiques of expression
When all I was birthing
Held delicious seed with new earth…..
I realised, I could say….
Nothing original, worthy enough
Nothing of substance
Nothing that hadn’t already been said
By a million fools
Who had leaned on the same sham walls of their power
And fallen
Breaking their awe
And cracking their dazzle
I wrote this thinking of the art of words and their role in love. How they are tools to convey, yet are so easily lost in another’s crude or inaccurate translation.
Spoken word, said in person, has many advantages over written word because you choose speed of delivery, add tone, body language, volume and pauses, all of which relay more than a typed word on a screen or page.
That said, you can build glorious confections, only for them to be heard as the thud of heavy boots or worse…..not heard at all, ignored.
I suppose it’s like making a fancy coffee for someone, only to discover they’re a tea person or it’s too early in the day for them.
For those of us who love words, we cannot help but employ them to our best ability, no matter how fruitless. It would be like never using the red or gold crayons. As word magpies, we are drawn to the bold, the shiny, the bright….
And after all, that’s what we are attempting to do - create a picture for someone, to paint all that lies within our heart.
💖💖💖