found poem, i think in fragments

I think in fragments. There's something curious and engaging about partial thoughts that have no punctuation or delineation. The oddments leave me wondering what's next, what's beyond the obvious. This unknown is like peering through a hole in the fence to see what’s there or opening a box of junk found in a cranny of the garage.

I like to write what I call “Found Poems.” The basic idea is to take a handful of words, fragments if you will, and use them to write a poem. The words I chose to incorporate into this Found Poem made it difficult, but it's a good exercise for my mind to pull together disparate words to form something.

Poetry should flow, yet the flow is often in fragments.

words used: tower, viable, conversation, reservation, treat

looking from the tower, perched on the edge

beyond visible in every direction

conversation viable in the great expanse

no distraction, nothing obscured at the vantage above it all

hesitation, reservation set aside

replaced with the uncomplicated treat of quiet seclusion, private and solitary

The words for my found poem were fragments. It was up to me to discover what those fragments could become. Eventually, they turned into a tête-à-tête piece. However, they could have become a trip that required lengthy conversations and stacks of booked reservations where a tower was tourist stop. What about a tower of treats, all sugar and confections forming a viable possibility?

As I look at this writing, which has grammatical structure, I see fragments of thought that have more or less become cohesive. I believe what I'm in fact pondering is, can I live in fragments which will make a whole?

Missy

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