when poetry shouts
& drips from fingertips
when images push into position
frantically
that room of one’s own
becomes any space
with paper & ink
or keyboard & screen
voice flowing
from brain to page
faster than bleeding
written standing up
at a bus stop
words blurred by rain
or scrawled on a napkin
with coffee stain edges
those seconds
of possession & creation
do not need silence
& will not tolerate
interruption
but seeded images
need time to germinate
planted deep in the mind
bud & unfurl in a place
for coaxing slow growth
free of demanding cats
squabbling children
& cartoon voices
where is that closed door
that sacred space
that room
without a door
that only I
can enter
& how
do I find it?
***right now, that room of my own exists only in my living room, between 2:00-4:00 in the morning. There MUST be a better way…
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Yes, yes, yes, you found it, somehow. But get some sleep!
LOL, going there now 🙂
Bravo! Woweeeeeee!
🙂 oh, gosh, I am going to have a permanent blush, between you & David! Thanks!
superb susan as i can remember them kind of days as well as to trying to have that moment where it’s just me and the words. your piece could have been one of mine:)
Don–glad you identified. Wish I had that space….
artistic creation as responding to an urge, a surge, demiurge and purge – with its character and sense of timing, often inconvenient!
You describe it so well, Susan.
Thank you, Noel. Just trying to find that space in which to express it best 🙂
if it comes as it does, it means there is the space!
Hi duet partner 🙂
I am so NOT going to argue with the Zen master here…you are right, the words came, but these particular lines were written in response to three days of constant interruption and–gasp–losing images–to a busy weekend. Did I still write–yes. However, WHEN I wrote was the issue–staying up until 4 is not the way to write (at least, not for me).
It finds you, because it needs you. Great take!
Thanks, K.
Spot on! Terrific. Faster than bleeding. don’t mind noise, won’t tolerate interruption, just great. And love the cat. k.
Thanks! The kitty is a spoiled rotten brat who lies in the middle of the notebook or sits on the keyboard 🙂
Love her–she knows I won’t kill her for it.
creative writing is just so liberating that I don’t know anything that could come close to it and you have captured so well that desire and angst I feel toward writing.
Thanks so much! Glad you feel me here 🙂
Take the writing with you… http://youtu.be/uIb6I8gtgtw
Last week, in front of Planned Parenthood, I held a piece of notebook paper and a pen in hand, writing out a couple of paragraphs of the chapter under edit at home. 🙂
Fantastic idea!
that room lives IN YOU…always has, always will. the door is even open when you are sleeping. sometimes you want to close the window to keep out noise..but you really don’t have to. the noise in your head is louder, more important to get that out to make room for all the others that are in there waiting in the ante room!
except when they sulk, because I am not paying them the proper amout of attention 🙂
Which is exactly what had been going on this weekend.
hmmm, the kids or the kitties or the words? or take my pick? if this is you on “non-attention”…Lord help me…I don’t have enough hours in the night to catch up! Give a SFAM a break. 😉
🙂 OK, OK!
😉
Susan, I really like the way you string words together so effortlessly. This is truly amazing. You are one great poetress!
Celestine–thank you! Coming from you, that means so much!