Re-cycling

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Down the dusty, data-blown back streets
of my computer’s hard drive lies
the dumping ground-
the place
where failed poems go to die,
and fragments too, which make me feel
embarrassed or ashamed-
lines leading nowhere, overgrown
with lush, excessive, choking adjectives;
a rusting heap of mis-matched metaphors;
a rhyme scheme spray-canned on a concrete wall.
And that’s not all
that festers here-
a ballad that would put a saint to sleep;
a cinquaine that’s correct, but deadly dull.

The place is full
of junk.

Yet often when I’m stuck
I wander here
to browse the trash
(it’s happened many a time.)
I pick up some soiled phrase and rub it
on my sleeve
and sometimes- you won’t believe this-
I can see a gleam of gold beneath the grime.

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3 thoughts on “Re-cycling

  1. I loved this. I recycled a scene just yesterday. It didn’t fit where I had written it, so, I took it out and dropped it in “the dumping ground.” Then, as the writing progressed, I found a perfect place for it and there it was, “the gleam of gold beneath the grime.” Thanks Jack. Would you mind if I re-blogged this with a mite of additional commentary? I promise proper attribution. 😉

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