A new meeting with my fellow writers and something incredible comes up.
We all started with writing a short paragraph about a place that felt important to us, in a positive way. We put such an effort in it…
Next thing we know, we are asked to cut it into pieces! I almost felt as if I had to murder my child… but I obliged.
Finally, the scrambled word were put together again in a poem. I am still stunned about what it became.
This is what I wrote initially:
It’s a corner of the park, as if parks could have corners. They don’t. They stretch large and wide, like a green paddle of water. And there’s one spot that’s the corner I love. Where the grass grows in a soft cushion, up to the roots of that old oak tree. It’s like a pillow, where I can rest my tired body, under the protective shade of a thousand leafy butterflies that the tree is offering me. I sit there with a book in my lap and the wind sings a story of heroes in my ear, like a lullaby to put me to sleep, while the sun dances with the clouds in a long game of hide and seek.
Then, I cut it all in bits and pieces (51 pieces, to be exact), separating phrases, names or even articles, and I reassembled them in a poem.
This is what I composed:
That’s the corner of that old long game
where the wind sings a thousand shades of a lullaby
a story of heroes,
leafy butterflies in my lap.
And there’s one spot
large and wide, like a green hide and seek,
in a soft cushion.
I sit there
where the sun puts me to sleep,
the tree dances with the roots in a paddle of water.
I love the clouds, like a pillow.
They stretch in my ear.
I know you might think most of it doesn’t make quite sense, but I like the feeling of it… don’t you?