Poem: Urgent Journey


Her heartbeat brings you rhythm, love, and nourishment and life
Till muscles push you out and out, and out and out and out and out
and out to meet the world.

Cold, kaleidoscopic cacophony,
warmed with awed caresses,
melts into your new cocoon
of boundless metamorphosis.
Everything to touch

to play

to know

to be

Freedom jostles safety,
your everything expands.
You brace it with your own faint beat
and feel a lifetime in your hands.

You start to think you’ve found your groove,
and life is full of fun,
and then you see the finish line
and know you have to run.

Reach potential, reach new heights,
reach for all of Earth’s delights,
leave the nest and leave an heir,
leave your traces here and there,
make a fortune, love, relax,
spend ahead of death and tax,
Smell the roses, make your mark,
lighten up and light the dark,
take it easy, take a breath.

Take it all before your death,
know and teach and hear and see,
know the stars of cult TV,
take it easy, make the time,
make the hay while in your prime
make your day, and make it count,
count your days, a small amount,
amount to something, race the clock,
earn a tick for every tock…

Give it all you can… or not.
you’ll reach the end no matter what.

I started writing this when prompted to write about a journey, possibly even an urgent journey, during a workshop of the Geneva Writers’ Group. I tried to make the form of the poem follow the story, and the pace and structure of the kind of life depicted. The second- and third-to-last stanzas are best read without pauses, one breath each.

Since I wrote the first part last, I had a hard time escaping the meter I had in my head. I wanted it to be some kind of floaty, unstructured, beautiful-sounding and barely comprehensible free verse with some pretty metaphors, but it’s been too long since I last wrote that kind of poetry. There’s a lot that still could be tightened up, and still less order than I’d like in the two nine-line stanzas, but maybe that’s how life is. For instance, ‘make the hay’ probably doesn’t work very well in that phrase, but ‘seize the day’ would add yet another day in there, so that’s one thing I need to think about some more.

I’m actually trying not to miss out on too much sleep this time around, so I’m not going to continue working on this poem until seconds before midnight. It’s a draft like most things are, and may well be rewritten later. In that respect it differs from the average life.

As a bonus, here’s a near-nonsensical little scene I created with xtranormal, a video-making tool I just discovered. Essentially I just typed in the first conversation that came to mind and hit ‘Action’, so again, don’t expect more than a draft.

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  1. Little Things That Don’t Necessarily Count, But Still Involve Numbers. « Creative Output

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