February | 2016 | Red Wolf Journal

Moments of Plumb
by Debi Swim

This morning I awoke and felt…different, not merely happy, not just rested, but lighter, buoyant. I’ve felt this way a handful of times in my long life and it is always difficult to understand, let alone explain. So, I just enjoy these rare, rare days of… whatever this is.

Then, this morning, I knew. I knew I fit into this small part of the universe where normally I am just slightly out of sync. For these brief moments, I fit snuggly into the puzzle board (the wooden one that the pieces fall from so easily), straight, tight, aligned, instead of my usual wonky fit.

Ever out of sync
befuddled, awkward, askew
finally harmony

Note: Written in response to Red Wolf Poems Prompts for Red Wolf Journal Chapter 17 Prompt 98.

Writing after all is an act of courage, and of faith, and all of which would be pointless if not for love. Lover of truth, aren’t we all? Isn’t that why you bother to read at all? So let your poem come to some point of truth. An epiphany of sorts. What, you do have epiphanies don’t you?

Debi Swim writes primarily to prompts. She is a wife, mother, grandmother and happy WV poet. Blogs at georgeplacepoetrybydebiswim.

Evolution of Inspiration
by Debi Swim

Just for arguments sake, let’s say,
there are a million words in English
to choose from, winnow through,
shift like flour, cogitate over for exactitude
of meaning, shades of consideration.
From a fevered few come the pure
elixir of, draughts of, casks of heady phrases–
ambrosial scrumptiousness. A potent breath.

Who whispers in my ear a magic incantation?
What sharp stab of pain birthed such beauty
that pierces my soul with splinters of grace?
A muse? A ghost? A fairy, elf or gnome? Gift of God?
Divine wind, Ecstasy, altered state of consciousness?
There must be an ether field of dead poets’ dreams
that seep into my insentience to school my tongue
in winsome ways of poetic petit-four delights.

Note: Written in response to Red Wolf Poems Prompts for Red Wolf Journal Chapter 17 Prompt 96.

Have you ever wondered, considering the infinity of poems one is capable of, where the heck they come from? Is there in fact a collective unconscious as Yeats believed? That we could retrieve this pool of meaning through reading, isn’t that marvellous? How the hell are we supposed to retrieve than through reading and writing, you tell me? So reflect upon all I have said. Write, see what you’ve retrieved.

Debi Swim writes primarily to prompts. She is a wife, mother, grandmother and happy WV poet. Blogs at georgeplacepoetrybydebiswim.