Thursday, August 2, 2007

The Blank Space Within

I live on white sheets of paper
Where all is still to be
And everything is possible
The words to be written
The lines to be drawn
The feelings retained
In the flick of an instant
A beautiful passage way
From emptiness to form
Molds views out of clay

I sleep on white sheets of paper
Universal in its own right
Laying its open arms
To embrace my warmth
And carry forth fearlessly
The part of me that bleeds
Eagerly spilling
The life in each phrase
Shaped by each character
Traced out of the vague

With my restless brush
I will dress my thoughts
In a thick stroke of ink
I will squeeze my anguish
And give away the excess
Transposing the weight
So they too can sleep
On white sheets of paper
Coz’ they have grown tired
Of meandering inside me


Rose Dewy Knickers said...

A lovely and lyrical ode to the thoughts that sleep restlessly within.



Rob Kistner said...

What a fine tribute to art... well done!

tumblewords said...

Nicely filled white sheets. I like the progress you make through words.

Clare said...

Hi Gilson! What a cool poem! I love the lines "I live on white sheets of paper" and "I sleep on white sheets of paper" -- and then how after writing your thoughts "they too can sleep on white sheets of paper" -- this created such a wonderful image of the creative process.

anni said...

The part of me that bleeds
Eagerly spilling
The life in each phrase

I will dress my thoughts
In a thick stroke of ink

both of the above struck me and i am so living the life that is lived on white paper, too.

Gilson said...

Thanks rose dewy knickers! I’m glad you enjoyed it. Even restlessness sometimes needs a bit of sleep.

Hi Rob! Thank you for your words, I’m a great admirer of your poems and for me it’s just an honor to receive such complement.

Hi tumblewords! It’s great to see you around! It’s interesting for you to mention that. I guess sometimes poems feel like a chain reaction, one word sets the terrain for the next one to settle down. It’s interesting how words can connect to each other.

Clare! Thanks a lot! The freedom in knowing that every sheet of paper is a new world to explore makes it all so interesting. Great to hear from you!

Hello Anni! I’m pretty sure sharing the poem is even more fun than writing it. Thanks for stopping by!

Dick Jones said...

There's a pleasing 'zen' feel to this commentary on that which is blank but not empty.

Gilson said...

Thanks Dick Jones! I think I know what you mean. Blank is "still to be", and empty is "nothing there". It's good to be one but not the other!

Marie said...

The way you described "sheets" describes the love of a writer in a way a person who loves sleeping can relate. I want to "snuggle in words!"