June 1, 2013 · 1:26 PM
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Awen

senses,

I remember the reap and feasts

of old,

I remember you.

There is a line of crimson-curled posey

working deep inside

and it’s biting at my ribs

to be let out–

(this is Awen–when muse strikes and you are helpless before it.)

I’m trying,

oh I’m trying to live.

I’m trying to be real.

that’s what,

Shut Up.

It’s not like anything else I know.

~Melanie Blackwell

12 Comments

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12 responses to “Awen”

  1. Brian Hughes
    June 1, 2013 at 2:03 PM

    “There is a line of crimson-curled posey working deep inside…”

    I had the same problem the other night after that Findus lasagne.

    Reply
  2. Wordifull Melanie
    February 1, 2014 at 5:47 AM

    Reblogged this on Wordifull and commented:

    One from the archives…

    Reply
  3. hitandrun1964
    February 1, 2014 at 11:51 AM

    Your words are always so powerful. “biting at my ribs…” Images… trying to get out. Wonderful.

    Reply
  4. janeybgood
    February 2, 2014 at 1:05 PM

    The images you create are so REAL and thought-provoking.

    Reply
  5. Susie Clevenger (@wingsobutterfly)
    February 3, 2014 at 12:47 AM

    I understand “biting at my ribs” This has such depth it takes more than one read to take it in…beautiful piece

    Reply
  6. bgbowers
    February 7, 2014 at 2:03 PM

    “biting at my ribs” – love it!

    Reply

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