Like an idiot savant crunching numbers
between her teeth, savoring the sweet saltiness
and solving problems faster than calculator memory, or bowing
and plucking violin strings with more skill than the first chair
at the symphony; but forgetting to tie her shoes,
or cook breakfast,
I am breathing in air like everyone else
but exhaling poetry
silent for so long, the song hums in my veins
like an insistent strum on the harp
of my ribs; now murmuring
a descant within the inner ear,
the bones of my neck a long xylophone,
and drums thrum responses
filling my heart’s chambers,
& echo in marrow
I am the instrument I was created to be,
yes, muse-driven and ridden 60 days in a row;
do I ask for it to stop–no, never that
but perhaps an hour of silence
dare I ask for that, or will that music still again,
this time forever?
Susan Daniels Poetry 
I have often had the same fears. When I was a couple of years out of high school, I read Carson McCullers’s “Wunderkind,” about a talented young pianist who one day suddenly loses her ability, and it terrified me. I have lost years of my life. I hope I do not lose any more.
Hear you, Alex, and I hope you don’t 🙂
The musical imagery is powerful and wonderful.
The palm on our hand is not large enough to block out the sun – ditto with songs, ditto wiith poetry. You cannot stop them flowing when they are in season. They well up inside us and come bucketing, gushing and tumbling out when they will. I see moments of creative drought as moments of internal germination, when the rough outlines of vague songs silently sprout within us, periods of gestation when they take form waiting to be unleashed with all their enchanting fragance and music in the season of birth!
We are enjoying this season of birth and creative burst! Long it may it last!
I am so glad you like this–I especially like the idea of a neck as a xylophone 🙂
I just wanted to write something about generating so much–the joy of it, the sometimes inconvenience of it, and the sheer horror that it could ever leave me again 🙂
Kind of like saying “stop” when what is really meant is “please don’t ever end…..”
I know that feeling!
Gripping~ thanks Susan ~WONDERFUL poetry!
Thank you Deb–glad you enjoyed.
I, for one, am glad you are what you were meant to be and you are willing to share with us! We Win!
🙂 we all win–I am so very glad to have met all of you, read your wonderful work, etc. I started blogging just to get the work out there, but it has turned into a wonderful new community of friends who are also muse-ridden, sharing work, stories, and lives. LOVE it & all you guys….
Agreed 🙂 A GREAT community of amazingly and talented people! Who knew!
Not me! So glad I found it though–you guys ROCK.
Susan, love the flow of this. And the way you explore how poetry can flow like breathing – and yet we worry if we pause for too long. I was just having a conversation about this with my mother, who is a visual artist, a painter, while I am a poet – and we found common ground in this very concern.
Richard
Thank you, Richard—-yes, instead of enjoying what is given, I worry about when it’s going to stop….