Backspacing

I think I have started about 15 different poems while I have been in India...but none have felt right. None have felt genuine enough. None have been rhythmic enough. None have felt deep enough. I can't quiet get the right words on paper. I use few words to begin with, so each one weighs a great deal and I want it to be right. So I backspace to start over. And I try again.

I am still cautious to share any creative piece, especially ones that are in process...even so, here are some that survived the backspace...

***

I am caught in between 

A tension quite as mean

In a world of Profession

And a world of Confession

The stories are split

and don't reconcile

But to ignore and forget 

Is a gross form of denial

***

The bend toward entitlement

and frustration

sends chills down my spine 

and pushes resignation

***

Tell me a story that will make me cry

Tell me a story that doesn't leave an eye dry

Tell me a story that will make me laugh

Tell me a story about that riff raff

***

To glimpse the divine 

In the eyes of the thine

Is a beauty beyond fine

***

This tapping from my memory 

Disturbs me from my revelry

If you could hear it just one time

It burns to spare not one dime

Tap Tap Tap

Do you not see me

Or do you not care

Tap Tap Tap

Can you not hear me

I see you avoid my stare

***

To me, these don't seem worth sharing because they are incomplete thoughts. I recoil from process. I want finished. So to sit in the incomplete process and hold these stanza's loosely is uncomfortable...but necessary.

And maybe these are incomplete because this is really only part 1 of 3. Maybe it's because like Israel, I don't want to reflect on India because it will mean something. Maybe it's because I crave perfection like I crave breath. And maybe it's because it's not about the right words. Maybe it's because its about the process. 

***

Maybe it's about the swinging pendulum

***