The Clock Ticks

Writing is a process that even writers find mysterious. There’s no one way to write. Every poem is its own journey, and I’m usually discovering what a poem is as much as writing it.

There are also many ways to approach writing. Often I start with an experience or idea I want to capture in poetry. Or I might want to poetically tell a story. Sometimes I just have a feeling and start thinking of how I might express it through imagery. I think it’s safe to say most writers use multiple approaches, and each poem requires its own approach.

To shake things up, I’ve been trying something new. It’s not for every poem and not all the time. But it’s a way to get out of my usual box. Many writers swear by free-writing, where you just ramble on the page and hope something worthwhile comes out of all that stream of consciousness.

What I’ve been doing isn’t exactly free-writing, but it’s a close cousin. Instead of starting with an idea or experience, I’m letting the free association of words suggest ideas or direction for the poem. It doesn’t always work out, but it has yielded some fresh and surprising results.

Below is one such poem, “The Clock Ticks.” The first line popped in my head, so I tried to free associate from there to see where it went. These poems often have a playful vibe, even if the content is serious. It makes sense in a way because I’m essentially playing with words. (It was also fun seeing what kind of image AI came up with for this poem, LOL).

“The Clock Ticks” will be in my upcoming book, A Song of Glass. I’ve also been thinking about compiling these kinds of poems into a chapbook entitled Non-Sequitur. We’ll see 🤔

The Clock Ticks

The clock ticks, the river Styx
wends its way through my veins,
the weathervane is bound to change
north for west and east for south,
but when in doubt, twist and shout;
allow the moon to fill a spoon
then savor slow its stainless glow;
don’t diffuse a rose in bloom
but walk a mile in a crocodile’s smile;
embrace a breeze and plant psalm trees;
abandon sheep and never sleep,
like anchorites that pray all night
you’ll speak with stars within your heart,
receiving breath untouched by death.