NaPoWriMo: The Tiny Place – Day 25

Yesterday I spent inside a snail shell – today the frame continues small around me.  I’m thinking of Alice and the tiny door that took her into Wonderland.  I met a man at Round Top this weekend.  He sat beside me in a workshop. Tall, well-built he wore a baseball hat, blue jeans and boots. Shy, but polite, Texan through and through, if he had not been sitting in that chair I’d never peg him as a poet. When I asked what books he liked to read, he spoke of children’s literature.  Who knew, I’d find a soul mate outside of poetry though Milne, his favorite, was a poet, so was Robert Louis Stevenson and Lewis Carroll too.  We didn’t have a chance to converse more – it was the last hour of the last day and I don’t know his name.  But we wandered the same territory young, and share deep roots and early memories. Perhaps, he helped to send me back to that first wordless, dark and timeless room where everything began.


My Little Room


It’s dark in here

sound all around

gurgles tickles

faint cadence twitters



Wisp of melody –

I long for more

and all the while

strong steady beat

asleep, awake, comforts

with consistency.

Walls begin to shrink

I push with each extremity

slide against the malleable

tough membrane of my room.

Things are changing

much too quickly.

All around me tension

builds. I’m turning, turning.

Stop floating.  Feel.

Difference.  Separation.

Whatever’s happening’s

begun.  Beat quickens…





This entry was posted in Birth-Death-Rebirth, Daily Prompt, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Storytelling, Writing and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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