The steps to the  Poetry Room at City Lights, the famous bookstore in San Francisco where more poems have doubtless been found than lost.
The steps to the Poetry Room at City Lights, the famous bookstore in San Francisco where more poems have doubtless been found than lost.

Two Poems:

Lost

I could not find the poem

so I looked into the sky.

Poem peeked

from behind a cloud

then disappeared— so I

searched the garden and

found only yellow daisies

slick with dew.

 

I looked in stacks of books

and knew

poems hold their secrets close.

I scanned within my phone,

websites spun

to catch a poem.

 

Alone,

I walked the floor,

gazed out windows,

peered at stillness

in the pond.

Perhaps a poem might

crawl out of water

or land on silent wing?

 

 

About the Poem: In this poem I decided to write about the creative process using everyday images. It balances frustration with the joy of accomplishment when the long-awaited poem is complete.

 

 

Found

Here’s the thing—

A poem comes out of nothing.

No appointment—early, late.

Be patient, sit and wait.

When the poem calls,

no time to waste.

 

Weigh words,

unravel knotted threads

through the needle of your pen.

Spin random lines,

pattern then design.

Grab space

where words may hide.

Fill that darkened place.

 

Find light that slips

beyond the blind.

Don’t mind the fading moon,

drifting fog, or lizard

climbing on the screen.

Catch that dream—

the dream you almost

lost.

 

Lorraine Walker Williams