how to make water
observations had long since revealed the clumpy clumsy nature of the
dusty envelope embracing stellar point IRC+10216.
carbon then silicon monocides gifting out their oxygen whirly bits into untraviolet songs. pudding proof, as the gathered crowd proclaimed.
and hydrogen,
hydrogen everywhere! so there, the Herschel ledger reveals truth as it
already is,
water comes to the sky.
there is a bone that also started this way, alone. a femur that stood then walked upright.
so if someone asks, is your life like a poem? don’t snarl,
but answer thus, if near nothing can imagine and make a glass of water, what’s one poem more or less from a bone that talks?
thus informed water from light, poems from bones?
poems is easy, just like falling off a star.
neil reid © december 2012
comments:
I started going right, this poem was going left. Still didn’t quite get where either of us thought to go. Such are poems! (so much for what I think I want)
Written for the We Write Poems prompt #135, My life as a poem.
bearly audible 
nicely done Neil…..thanks for sharing you words
Thank you Wayne.
I suppose the construction of both water and poems have a certain magic to them…the pulling together of diverse elements to create something pure, lucid, and beautiful. Water, like poems, can be crystal and transparent; perfect tranquil bodies colored maya azul; having dark, unexplored depths; or they may be turbulent, violent, or dirty. How does CW Leonis retain its mystery, indeed? So does the poet.
-Nicole
Yes, yes, precisely Nicole. I suppose, with some slight amusement, one might say as I see it, “intelligent design”, albeit with more simple elemental intent. Thus said, Spirit I think wants water, wants poems to be writ. One drop of water has ripples that go far and far.
Thank you for the beautiful comment Nicole. ~neil
There are times I get to where I want to go, other times I do down write battle with my muse, and other times I just give in.
When the words write themselves we need, I think to be content with the fact that they wanted to be heard a particular way and nothing we attempted to do would otherwise change that.
…as we fall off stars…every once in a great while I think about not falling, and then I remember the joy in flight…
http://julesgemsandstuff.blogspot.com/2012/12/we-write-poems-135-compostie.html
A truly lovely last line of your comment Jules! And yes, in overall intent, my writing is because that’s what was asked of me. And yea, sometimes I forget the simplicity of that intent made real.
Thanks too for your fine poem. Wasn’t able to leave a comment on your blog, so did so at WWP instead. Great line from that poem, sentences for senses. Thanks.