Hundreds of poems,
Like hundreds of unfinished thoughts
Incomplete missions
Lay strewn across the landscape of my mind,
Landmarking memories
Fuzzy but unforgotten;
Tagging identifiers
Signatures of DNA
The microscopic makeup
Of what makes me tick;
Unfinished cogs
Waiting to be shifted into gear
To make it to spoken air
To linger in liquid vapor
And float as vibrations
To trigger a resonance
With a frequency
That forbids their forgetting
Just their low humming
Playing melodies at the back of your mind
They whisper gently
In my ear
Wanting to be solid
To be taken into a new dimension
To be made whole
And part
Gestalt of me –
There is not enough time
Or energy to pen them all
But each one
Speaks encomium
For those stillborn
Waiting for a second coming
So that they too can breathe.

(c) 11-29-2011 L. Ashwood

2 thoughts on “Encomium

  1. Its like that song “breath” by Ann Nalick.. “2am and Im still awake writing this song, if I get it on paper its no longer inside of me threatening the life it belongs to” these words we never say and stay throbbing in our hearts aching for release. We feel as though they belong to us. Like our voice is our own when it really isnt. I dont think you are truly a writer until you realize that your words have a life separate from you, thats why people can interpret the same piece of literature in so many different ways. It never was ours in the first place, all these poems unwritten, they are bigger than us. It is a major injustice to keep them bottled up, thanks for the reminder sis.

    1. I am watching a video of this song (Breathe) right now, and I am realizing that this poem and the one I posted today “Open Heart” are both part of the same verse.

      “….And I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd, cuz these words are my diary screaming out loud, and I know you’ll use them however you want to”…just gotta breathe and yea, know that they are bigger than me and were never mine in the first place.

      Thanks Allo

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