A meeting, a book,
A blink of the eye:
In a seeming instant,
Hours go by.
Or days or weeks
Or months or years.
Like a magician’s trick:
A life in mirrors.
Tag Archives: Em T. Wytte
A Seeming Instant
There Comes a Time in Every Life
One of the great things about writing is poetic license. It doesn’t have to be accurate or factual like an essay. It simply has to feel real. “There Comes a Time in Every Life” is like that.
Another Hand
Another hand,
Laying down its weight,
Adding a stack
To the too-full plate.
Another task,
Small and yet bold,
Ignoring the max
That the table can hold.
They Called It a Flame
They called it a flame.
I saw only darkness,
A cold, blackened void
No oxygen, tinder, or spark
Still, they told me to guard it,
To feed it. To nurture
That imagined thing in the dark.
That warm, fiery glow
In a night left unlit,
That flicker unseen
In a place without wind.
Heat unfelt, unobtainable
Insubstantial, unreal:
How can you protect
What you can’t even feel?
Already Fading
Consuming
Like a feeling so strong
The world fades
Compulsion
A hook caught in flesh until
Resistance is painful
Exhausting
As years of experiences are
Drawn through you
Escape
All the thrills and excitement of living
Separate from personal cares
Fleeting
Taking a moment, hours, forever:
Over too soon.
A Matter of Taste
Wholesome bread with authentic parts:
Non-powdered eggs, a slice of cheese,
No plastic fake, and real ham, please.
Unfrozen, unprocessed – assembled, cooked, baked –
Yet somehow too bland or even too boring.
Alas for tastebuds trained by
McDonalds too many mornings!
Tarnished
Like once-white stone,
Soot-stained to gray;
Like once-bright silver,
Tarnished by shades;
It was not the intention,
Not the design
Yet somehow
Inevitable –
A fate etched in time.
One Last: The Final Post of the twytte Writing Experiment
The final post. That seems so surreal to write. Actually, it should be “the final post of the experiment.” Today, is the 1 year anniversary of the first post, so today is the day when the writing experiment comes to a close. I have officially posted a bit of new writing every day for a year. Yay! I did it!
Party time!
And how do you kick off the celebration at the end of a writing experiment? Write a poem! I can’t decide if that’s sadly predictable or simply in character. Regardless, I was trying to capture where the blog is now, and somehow it became theatre. I shouldn’t be surprised.
Anyway, thank you to everyone for reading!
I am going to take a wee vacation before I start posting here again (the cleaning and resetting stage, if you will). I expect to start again in July – assuming that I’ve figured out what I want to start again. I need a new experiment! If anyone has any suggestions or requests, I will gladly take them into consideration. At the moment, all I know for sure is that it will be writing-related.
For those of you who want to know how the novels end, so do I! (jk, kind of) Seriously, though, the novels will be continued. They will, however, be removed from the writing experiment rules. I may even give them their own sites so that if you want to read them but not poetry, you have somewhere to go. That’s one of the things I have to figure out. But one way or another, I will finish those, and I hope to get ahead enough that I can post them more consistently.
So wish me luck, thanks again, and stick around! There is definitely more to come.
Exhaustion Strikes
Exhaustion strikes
With the fury of a swordsman
Overwhelming its target
In a rush of blows:
Too swift, subtle, and skilled
To be anticipated or evaded
Despite warning signs
Or the pangs of logic.
By the time suspicion arises,
The strike has already
Been executed:
The candle is split,
The trousers have fallen –
The blade rushes so rapidly
That even the speeding blood
Is too slow to sully
That sliver of silver.
And the resulting darkness
Is faster still.
Memory
People blur:
Words and deeds,
Sights and sounds,
All scrambled –
Mixed together
Expressionist,
Impressionist:
The mind is an artist
Shaping and reshaping
What was (thoughts,
Emotions, actions)
Into an idea,
A feeling:
Not opinion or fact
But somehow
Both
twytte 