poem 5/9/10 – the mote that roared

Writer’s Island poetry prompt #2, yesterday – “The second official re-opening celebration prompt is: STOWAWAY… Pretend you have stowed away on ship at sea, or an airplane, or train. Perhaps you’ve stowed away inside your own feelings, or in the past… ”

I had the thought of “stowing away” inside the tiniest thing, like Blake’s mustard seed, or a grain of sand… what I finished with is actually the second half, about, of a longer draft – most of my posted poems are in fact of this kind of massive “pruning”. Not quite satisfied with it, but trying to let my gut speak, pin it down, then step away, having done the creation.


the mote that roared

To fall to tumble
down down and
all the way down
curling all my weight
within a spilling
grain of dust

Land myself unseen
in the eternal clockhouse
be the single mote
that seizes the gears
that halts to silence
the ratcheting teeth

How I long to be
that one tiny grist
the one that
the mills of the gods


6 responses to “poem 5/9/10 – the mote that roared

  1. well stowed lawrence…..nicely done and thanks for sharing your words

  2. Those tiny things can be what count. Excellently done.

  3. What was the bibilical seed thing?…oh well you know what I mean…well said here.

  4. As I read this, I was most impressed by the repeating images of things circular. Well done.

  5. A mote in the eye, a missing horseshoe nail, so many seeds of disaster in tiny things. A poem to make us think. Thankyou.

  6. it would be nice to know that no matter how little you are in the grand scheme of things – that you could effect something in a large way 🙂
    thanks for sharing this!

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