It snagged me late–
rescued me, truth be told–
at a time when old
passions and occupations
oozed mercilessly
from my soul.

It didn’t happen all at once
but in stages, like a well-planned
seduction: the sensuous play of words,
the grinding rhythms of song,
the fusing drone of prayer–each
enticed at the appointed time.

And when, at last, I stood
naked before its spell,
it planted itself deep
within the creative space and
charged me with the poet’s task–
to turn water into wine
and toast the delicate
marriage of mystery
and truth.

© 2000 Dennis Ference

26 thoughts on “Poetry

  1. This is so beautiful. I have never heard the poet’s task described better…”to turn water into wine and toast the delicate marriage of mystery and truth “…I now have poet’s envy.

  2. A belated return to you blog- been on a writing retreat – and thank you for your many visits. I love poems on poetry and have a small collection – haven’t posted this one but here’s a back at you,
    poeting –
    some times
    you want to take it in your arms
    and squeeze
    the life out of it

    you know –
    the dream that’s been hanging around
    like an old scab
    that never goes away
    for the scratching and picking at it

    even when it’s taken hold
    stares you down
    like a hot momma
    with a grip on your balls

    you know –
    it’s the way it is,
    to melt in the heat of passion
    and lie limply
    in a bed of words

    • Welcome back and thanks so much for sharing this great poem. I absolutely relish the endless creative ways to express a thought, emotion, experience. Will be looking for your new posts now that you have returned. Peace. -Dennis

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