That place you go

Hi everyone,
I’m down here in the groove, a mile deep, an inch wide, the walls of the canyon so soft, so seductive, etched with hieroglyphics decipherable only by me. No one knows where to find me. I am in my head, a narrow universe populated by one. How I love it here.

Something may come from this, something may not. I have no will to challenge the future, down here in my groove.


21 comments on “That place you go

    • That place we go
      so words will flow
      where we explore,
      we’ve been before.
      For days and nights,
      recording sites,
      the soul’s release,
      the heart at peace,
      with poems galore.
      Want some more?

      Thank you, Jane.

    • The tunnel turns.
      The poet learns.
      Vision grows.
      Language flows.
      On crystal floor,
      explore, explore
      with words galore!
      Want some more?


      • The groove is deep,
        the journey steep,
        but joys abound
        when treasure’s found.
        Again we’ll yearn
        and will return
        for more and more
        poems galore.


    • Thank you, Jeanne. It was indeed a duet and I can remember locking arms at the skating rink. In my case, though, it was mostly to keep from falling down! Enjoy the day.

  1. Would I sin
    if I jump in
    down there deep
    with secrets you keep?

    No need forr you
    to be so terse
    I love your rhymes
    of poetic verse.

    Finding seams
    of gold galore
    writing lines,
    I want more.

    • No sin at all
      dear poet doll
      to come on down
      and look around.
      It’s been a while.
      I miss your smile.
      Even worse
      I miss your verse,
      your poems galore.
      Please write more.

  2. So I, too
    want to view
    the canyon there
    with words to bear.
    Colors rift
    become a gift,
    every poem
    stunning, glowin’;
    drops of thought
    on paper caught.
    Please do more
    with words galore!

    • Thank you, Janine! Nicely wrought. My groove went AWOL around noon and has been hard to relocate since then. Sometimes my groove and my muse seem in cahoots and contrive to keep the invisible opening hidden. Maybe tomorrow I’ll catch them not looking and sneak past them. Fingers crossed.

  3. Sneaking Past the Muse

    Sometimes I make an end run around her
    as she lazes by the fountain,
    flirting with the spouting Neptune,
    not noticing he is stone.

    Sometimes I tiptoe past her
    when she’s flopped down
    in the garden, making daisy chains,
    braiding them in her hair.

    Sometimes I hide in the garden shed
    till she goes by it whistling,
    calling up the werewolves
    to go hunting in the glen.

    Most times I just sit by her feet,
    ilstening to her talk.
    Usually there’s a nugget
    I can use for a poem.

    But sometimes, for sanity’ sake,
    I have to sneak past the muse,
    finding my own ideas in the everyday
    and not in her more rarefied air.

    ©2017 Jane Yolen, all rights reserved

  4. I’m jumping in,
    if that’s okay.
    Your wit and rhymes
    have made my day!

    Makes ME look
    down deep inside,
    and wonder why
    my words do hide.

    I used to write –
    had lots to say!
    Then my heart
    chose another way.

    I love to teach
    three R’s to youth,
    but now my heart
    leans towards the truth.

    Encouraged by
    a few dear friends,
    it’s time to make
    my dry spell end.

    The next three weeks
    will give me time,
    to muse and jot
    and work on rhyme.

    Pens and paper
    are on the wait,
    for me to scribe –
    not hesitate!

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