on edgewalking

I am a bit hypo-manic right now, meaning I feel very happy and creative. As I said in my previous post I am now keeping a paper journal. Since I am feeling so good I find that I write several pages at a time without really thinking. This morning I decided to write a poem. As of yet, it does not have a title. Someone once told me that I was good at poetry but it is largely possible that they were being too kind. I wrote this in a matter of seconds and I have not edited it but for some reason I feel like just putting it out there. Here it is…

Silence eeks

mind rages

stillness speaks

turning pages

escape is the greatest release

found beneath and between the covers

seeking someone elses

happy ending

hoping that my end

is one worth writing

and sending

either to a publisher

or an email to a friend

something worth elaboration

perhaps a way to mend

Thank you for your patience, now here is a real poem found in WeMoon signed by Marna, 2010, the name is edgewalkers truly:

“o edgewalkers and luminal folk

folk of the shades, rimdancers and those




we are fascinated by the edges

if time is a loom

then perhaps solstices, soul-stitches

are the shuttle’s turn

and equinox is loomcenter, balanced

side and side, these solstices,

we canter, whicker and pose

at weave’s edge

but just remember,

time’s advance,

the entire front of life’s weaving

is an edge as well

always special, precious, particular

each sunrise, each breath

each dip and wane, wax of the moon

cloud held or star clear.

we are always at web’s edge

cantering and lurching into

what has yet to be made

we are all at each moment edgewalkers truly”

[footnote: another night of insomnia; also could you please tell me how to edit my post so that the lines between sentences is not quite so large? It would be much appreciated.]


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