A collaboration of efforts. . . by Notadeadpoet and Morning Song
Sonnet 121 An Invitation to a Co-traveler on an Untrodden Path
When two creative minds concur by chance,
there's twice the possibility to err
in voice or meaning passing by first glance
what thoughts he mingled with the ones from her.
Two roads may lead where neither wants to go
alone; but both will meet somewhere agreed
in different lands where common winds still blow
inspired words to fill each other's need.
The orphan seed of poetry lies still
awaiting purpose, opening the door
to wild dreams, a freedom of the will
to re-create life's fantasies, and more.
Hence, write with me as I will pen with you,
Whatever just to see what we can do.
Response by the Co-traveler to Her New Writing Friend
What is this primeval call to my pen
Which lies so silently here on my desk?
What ancient prayer to dream, to dance again
Should awaken this nib that seeks its rest?
How fast my heart trembles to write with thee;
How this pen leaps with a will of its own.
It writes in sounds of perfect symmetry
To a voice it knows not, still yet, long known.
It's strange, this path we take, and yet somehow,
It seems not by mere chance, but by design,
As though a soft wind bends a tender bough
And coaxes it gently into your mind.
Free me from the chains that fetter my soul;
Let me fly through your lands of enchantment.
We'll soar the skies till our story's been told
As to the tree, this hungry twig is bent.
With wings such as these, I'll tremble no more
As I humbly bring my words to your door.
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 1158 times
Written on 2007-08-08 at 17:19
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When Writers Meet by Chance. . .
Prologue to Collaboration OneSonnet 121 An Invitation to a Co-traveler on an Untrodden Path
When two creative minds concur by chance,
there's twice the possibility to err
in voice or meaning passing by first glance
what thoughts he mingled with the ones from her.
Two roads may lead where neither wants to go
alone; but both will meet somewhere agreed
in different lands where common winds still blow
inspired words to fill each other's need.
The orphan seed of poetry lies still
awaiting purpose, opening the door
to wild dreams, a freedom of the will
to re-create life's fantasies, and more.
Hence, write with me as I will pen with you,
Whatever just to see what we can do.
Response by the Co-traveler to Her New Writing Friend
What is this primeval call to my pen
Which lies so silently here on my desk?
What ancient prayer to dream, to dance again
Should awaken this nib that seeks its rest?
How fast my heart trembles to write with thee;
How this pen leaps with a will of its own.
It writes in sounds of perfect symmetry
To a voice it knows not, still yet, long known.
It's strange, this path we take, and yet somehow,
It seems not by mere chance, but by design,
As though a soft wind bends a tender bough
And coaxes it gently into your mind.
Free me from the chains that fetter my soul;
Let me fly through your lands of enchantment.
We'll soar the skies till our story's been told
As to the tree, this hungry twig is bent.
With wings such as these, I'll tremble no more
As I humbly bring my words to your door.
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 1158 times
Written on 2007-08-08 at 17:19
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Doreen Cavazza |
