the blank paper is silent
uncomfortably so, and just as snowfall
urges foot stepping on the wide white sheet
so you seek to grace the page
without blemish, compelled to find
some undetermined pure pre-thought
as though divining the divine
with a dowsing pencil
you think perhaps the poet is a torn piece
of blotter, taking dictation as automaton
and even with all the nonsense stream
that randomises, you imagine that sequence
suffices to say something profound
in its perplexity, between lines of typeset
where widows linger in mid-air
and orphans are isolates*
-true there are palpable patterns between print
but the lacuna is always and only possibility
not source, not wellspring of wonderment
cavity is close-mouthed, a heaving hiatus
before the starting pistol sounds
and the white-noised wind
whistles by as we run with the first words
and feel how far they reach
Notes: *widows & orphans – typeset terms for visually loose hanging sentences and words
Linking up with Lilian and other dVerse poets in that friendly free for all known as Open Link Night
PoetryPix 
Oh this is all so excellent….
I was first struck by these two lines and the image you make here….
“as though divining the divine
with a dowsing pencil”
And this image “just as snowfall
urges foot stepping on the wide white sheet”
I’ve never aspired to say something profound…I surely admire those who achieve that…Mary Oliver comes to mind immediately for me. But perhaps the “profound” is in the perception of the reader, not the writer? Hmmmmm……maybe that’s why from day one some 5 years ago when I took up writing and started my blog, I called it lillianthehomepoet…….the exact opposite of profound 🙂
LOVED this post!
thank you Lilian for such gracious feedback – I hesitate to say anything profound but I know that what often holds me/others back in the creative process are such pressures that the blank sheet seems to summon. Your poetry is much more than home spun though!
Nice description of source as “wellspring of wonderment”.
goodness knows where it all springs from!
I never really write on a paper… but I do love the process on how a poem is formed from all that whiteness of an empty paper (or a blank screen in my case)… sometimes it just starts with that first word… sometimes it’s a flow, but how can you explain it?
I too never write on the page as would have far too many crossings out but even so the process of creativity is for me often a turgid one – I only wish inspiration was as easy as blotting paper
Such a richly sourced creation. Those last 4 lines whisk me away:
‘before the starting pistol sounds
and the white-noised wind
whistles by as we run with the first words
and feel how far they reach’
thank you Tish – the finale ran a bit more easily than the inception here!
Often the way – but a gallop at the finish is always satisfying 🙂
especially if you have a bet on it 😉
Ha!
Very strong writing Laura – some great lines here too… ‘where widows linger in mid-air
and orphans are isolates’ Enjoyed it very much…
thanks Scott – I liked the double entendre of those lines – aside from the typeset association
Ah, but waiting for that starting pistol…
And waiting, hoping for no false starts.
plenty of those and sometimes disqualifications from the outset!
Don’t I know it!
What knocks me over about your poem is the ending. Once you’re “in,” where you go, and how you feel at the end. There is no other feeling like that moment at the end, where you say it is finished.
ah yes – I try to enjoy the journey but like satiety after a meal, the end is nigh is fulfilling
As usual, the poets visiting your page have expressed everything much better than I could have, so I’ll just say “what everyone else said”. The only thing I want to mention is that my inner cinema was very busy creating visuals for every line you wrote.
I like your inner cinema Kiki and thank you for enjoying this short film!
This is absolutely exquisite, Laura ❤️ I love the image of “a heaving hiatus before the starting pistol sounds and the white-noised wind whistles by as we run with the first words,” you describe perfectly the moments before a poem is born. I love writing in notebooks, journals .. and gosh if somebody gave me a majestic quill and ink pot I’d up in the clouds haha 😀 I am always in awe of your poetry ❤️
fabulous feedback Sanaa – thank you so much. I sometimes feel that I ought to actually put pen to paper as you do – and wonder if I would produce different poetry
Laura, this poem was or is an absolutely visual work of art. I am a visual person and far from literary but you have the ability to turn the tables on me. Absolutely wonderful, thanks.
we of the visual world appreciate poetry because we see in words before the mind thinks methinks!
What a wonderful piece. The beginning pulled me in and the ending wrapped it all up with a bow.
“and the white-noised wind
whistles by as we run with the first words
and feel how far they reach”
I keep reading these last three lines. They capture for me the possibility that a poem can offer a reader. Well done.
Heartening to hear these lines resonated with you Ali – thank you
Dowsing pencil is a good image. Was reading a Canadian blog yesterday, their water comes from a well dowsed by her father.
Do you write with a pencil? I do. (Away from the laptop that is)
Dowsing is really rather precious since water is the outcome – as you know only too well the value of this commodity!
p.s. I never do use pencil & notebook now Diana – have been word processing for too long and thinking on my feet as it were with compulsive edits