Description: This is a little tidbit that, oddly, came to me while I was in the shower. So, here I go, dripping wet, running around to look for a pen and some paper. An intimate detail, I know, but nonetheless it's one that is worth mentioning because this is how poems come to me these days; in bits and snatches, at the oddest times, then they disappear, or are left hanging open. Does this sound crazy?
What I Once Thought Was Beautiful -------------------------------------------
I am falling slowly;
Infinitely falling from your grasp.
The pressure burns
From where your fingers once lay, covering
My mind's eye,
Slow to recover.
Momentary glances once passed between us;
Now recede into the distance, blurring...
Strange, what I once thought was beautiful.
I enjoyed this, it brought quite a few images to my mind and i like it when a piece does this for me. Most of the writing i do is usually a fleeting thought that just has to be nailed down to paper otherwise it might fly away, i have lost a lot of great ideas this way so i can totally understand the running after a pen and paper bit. I like the compactness of this piece and the power it presents in those lines, i think you have crafted it well. Maybe a bit of extra color or descriptive words could boost it but i still think it was a nice read.
If you really want to experience a little spontaneity in writing, try reading a poem and responding with one in return. These sorts of exercises allow you to experience poetry organically rather than wait for final draft perfection while the snippets dry up and die. You may even find yourself taking shorter works and developing them either into longer works or as ensemble pieces with other related writes.
No, it sounds like... dare I say it... The Universe is channeling ? lol
Someone told me, try a tape-recorder, because I think of 1,001 poems while driving... if I turn on a car, I can write like nobody's business as long as I'm driving... the catch is, you can't write them and drive. I find, I can't dictate them either, I can stream one out and then I get weirded out hearing my own voice...
This is a comment on the description, hmmmm, isn't that stupid of me?
The poem, I like very much. I like the ending line, how we reevaluate things once the touch is gone and we're seeing things again... removing the fingers from the mind's eye is a great metaphor for that awakening to see the person you didn't really look at in that light before... finding them less. It's as sad as it is liberating.