The Edge




The Edge

I walk between darkness and light
With a capricious muse,
And wherever her thoughts take flight
I settle down and peruse
That vision of a world reborn
Mull over the lay of the land
And where I strike gold in my mind
Ink lines stream forth from my hand.


There is an ocean for perception
And a dip is all I’ve sensed,
A world of understanding’s left
To grow unbound, untamed, unfenced,
And while I want to be immersed
lose myself deep, disintegrate,
There’s something else I need to search,
Learn and discern- and contemplate


And that, that bubbles deep within,
The sparkle lit, spring overflowed
A harvest from sound, sight and smell
Verses reaped from feelings sowed,
The quill walks of its own accord
Writing of sight beyond my sight,
And medium to inspired, conspired
With rhyme I set the page alight.





I always thought that this was one of my more conceited pieces. So I would like to sub, hmm, maybe not the page, but my mind’s certainly alight when I’m done with a poem. I can’t say I suffer from undue modesty, but neither do I like tooting my own kazoo (trumpets are heaaavyyy!)

But when I saw the topic in Prompts for the Promptless,  Meraki, I felt like this poem just fit. Writing poetry is my light, it’s my personal drive. All academic and professional ambition aside, writing is the most fulfilling thing I do.

There’s a certain peace in writing, not just poetry, but really anything at all. To just sit and put pen to paper, and let all the jumbled thoughts in your mind out line by line, word by word. All the ideas, all the concepts, all the glee, sometimes, all the pain and the anger, are out of your turbulent head, and in a safe place.

In fact, sometimes I’ve noticed, writing about things that make you really happy, makes you happy later too. Months or years later when you happen to find that piece you’d written, reading it will actually put you in the midst of that happy moment again. And it works conversely with writing when you’re upset. You get rid of all that’s troubling you, and you get a sense of clarity that helps you deal with the problem, and get to the root of it. And when you come back to it, after however long, you realize that despite the dark patch and the troubles, you made it safely to the other side. It’s such a total win-win!

The funny thing is, I still don’t know where I write from. Something I see, someone I know, some day things go unusually, they all help me take the plunge onto paper. I will not use the word ‘inspire’, that would imply that I actually had a part in writing. But it never feels like I do. Most times when I’m done and satisfied, or relatively satisfied with the result, it feels like a separate being, a whole different entity that I was just a medium to. That’s not to say I don’t fiercely protect my work. Even if it’s two lines from when I was ten, I’ll still get my claws out if someone dare try to steal them! (meeeoooowrrr!!!)

Probably something to do with how lazy i am. I dodge claiming the praise because on the other side of the coin, I’d have to claim responsibility for it too. =P That’s why it’s so convenient to have a muse. Admittedly, mine is me some days, but it’s still a different part of me, almost a different person, whom I don’t quite understand, but still have fun figuring out.

So what about you? Where do you find your creativity, your soul, your love?

What’s your Meraki?



Love and light,








24 thoughts on “The Edge

  1. PapaBear says:

    Cookie, the poetry was a brilliant piece of writing. I thoroughly enjoyed every word in every line…, and even understood most of them. I, like you, often wonder where the impetus comes from…, the topic, the style (mine changes all the time and I’ve heard the comment that I have no style at all !), the choice of poetry or prose. It all seems a mystery. Suffice to say (lucky for us) it just happens.


  2. Bill Shultz says:

    I love to break things…after all, I am a soldier…but in this case I want to break things in a nice way…in other words, break it down to MY interpretation of what you have written. I’ll probably make a total mess out of it all…but bear with me, I’m about to have some fun at your expense. 🙂 in a loving kind of way…:p

    Let start with the first stanza…and the first part of your explanation…they go kind of hand in hand. (Fasten your seat-belt..I get a little wordy sometimes. 🙂 )

    A. We all walk this edge, let me explain what I mean.

    1. I love my muse, i hate my muse: Now why would I say such a thing?…Well, like it or not I’m gonna tell ya. I love my muse (or should I say muses cause there are more than one) because they lead me everywhere…to places filled with love and tenderness, to heat and passion, to places dark and forbidding, and to all places in-between. So who is my muse, what drives me to write? Anything, anybody. You have been my muse on more than one occasion…I have read something of yours and it has put a jumble of works or a phrase in my noggin, and so I sit and sort them out. Sometime my scratchings actually turn into a poem…and sometimes they turn into scribbles.

    2. You say this poem makes you conceited….Horse hockey…not a conceited word in this poem anywhere. You tell a tale felt by all writers on how they flow the ink and try to make sense of it all. That is not being conceited, it is being creative…so there. :p

    B. Verse Two of the poem: I especially love these lines. They are my favorite from the entire poem.

    1. To grow unbound, untamed, unfenced,
    And while I want to be immersed
    lose myself deep, disintegrate,
    There’s something else I need to search,
    Learn and discern- and contemplate
    2, So many of my own poems speak of “floating free” allowing my soul to soar beyond all of know existence…this is where I’m most comfortable in my writing…”To grow, unbound, untamed, unfenced”, this is also an excellent way to describe my style of writing… I write without boundaries or borders. I say what I say as the words come into print or scribble. I even do that in form poetry, but in the case of form, I do force what I have to say into the style of the given form, such as one of the many sonnets.. I do not have a finger pointing style of my own…My style is the way my words happen to fit the poem I’m working on at the moment. My poems may rhyme or be free style..or a combination of the two.

    C. Ah yes, your final verse…such beauty in your words….such truth. One of my favorite ways to write is to have my earphones on with music being piped into my brain…usually music of meditation. Then, (thank goodness for my unforgiving HS teacher in typing class) I type with my eyes closed as the music carries me where ever it will. Often times, when I open my eyes after several minutes of typing, I am surprised at what I’ve written. If one can’t type, there is still a thing called pencil and paper floating around…I think they sell it at Wally World. 🙂
    You have seen some of my poetry that has been written exactly this way…I usually include the music with the poem when I post it. The music is always instrumental and even blends well when reading the poem. At least for me. And I write only for myself…it is a bonus to me when someone else likes what I write and honestly, I like very little of what I write….I always think I could have done better and I’ve been writing for more years than you can count on all of your fingers and toes unless you have two hands and two feet. :p. Once and awhile I actually like something I write and usually at those times, nobody else does. 🙂
    Don’t fret over where you write from…it makes no difference and needs no definition. The important part and the only important part is that your write…and write and write…good, bad, hot, cold luke warm or par boiled…let the words flow…I’ve been published in trade magazines and in (ahem) adult magazines. Then give your words to the world….Words are truly a gift that keep on giving…words can help people other than the writer understand things, can make them feel better about themselves or others…Your words do that already…I can see it in the comments you get both here and in the groups….You words have opened this old man’s eyes a few times…and brought peace to an aching soul.

    D. Praise and Responsibility…
    My Truth: I do hope people like my poetry and my prose. (I’ve completed a couple novels that I plan to publish as well.) I claim responsibility for my writing but let me add………………………….
    I really am not bothered by others liking it or not. I do not need to feel like I met a challenge and overcame the obstacles to become a good writer. You either like me or not, that is your choice,, not mine. As I said, I write for myself…and I won’t alter my writing to please anyone else. I yam what I yam said Popeye the Sailor Man..(my hero)
    Sorry I’m so long winded……nah,not really….after all, I am a writer. 🙂 ❤
    So have fun and get lost in the mystery of the written word…. and I happen to have a couple of spare Hugs to send alone with this novella….they are yours for the taking….


    • Thank you Bill!! I LOVE! your detailed comments! It’s so nice to come in and see that you’d left me such a detailed opinion of my poem! It makes me all warm and fuzzy! 😀

      I would say that I hate my muse too, because of the bitter whatnots she leads me to write. But I think I’ll have to admit, that helps too. If I didn’t get it all out, I’d be one messed up person ( more than now anyway lol). And I’m so, so flattered that I could be muse to you for anything, even two lines. I’ve played muse to some people before, but I never understood why. I talk entirely too much to have any element of mystery or guile, lol. 😛

      What I meant to say was that the last line of the poem somewhat embarasses me at times. It would imply that the words were flamer worthy, and that’s something I don;t mind other people telling me (how’d you think my head got so big? 😛 ) but it’s not something I’d tell myself. 😛

      And floating free, as you put it, is the most enchanting concept ever. I’ve been blessed and cursed witha constant restlessness, a wandering even, so pushing boundaries in the mind is something that fascinates me. Not physical so much though, I’m quite content couch potatoing. 😛

      Also if you can’t find any pencils, just let me know, I have quite a stock. 😛 I’m very old fashioned in this stuff. Still take constant running notes in class, and I’m still OCD about my handwriting. It looks exactly like these words, printed in a straight line with absolutely no variation between lines and letters. Anything other than that would just make me nuts!

      Bill, you don’t know just how much I appreciate you taking the time and writing to me. I know just how many years you have on me, and just how you outclass me in experience. And then hen you say you like something I said or wrote or think, it makes your comments just so much more valuable to me.` For a person working from little or no self esteem, validation is a tremendously important thing, and your opinion is one thing that adds a skip in my step every time I read it, no matter how many times I read it.

      Thanks so, so, so much for reading and telling me what you think! I will definitely take those hugs, and send you some back!

      Cookie ❤


  3. purple says:

    “I walk between darkness and light” I barely got beyond that first line … it just struck me tonight in a strange manner, like a forgotten epiphany, something I have always known, but somehow needed to be reminded of once again …


    • Thank you so much Purple! At the risk of sounding like a pompous behind, that’s one of my favorite lines from my own work. 😛 But you will definitely have to share with me, what did it remind you of? I’m most curious now. 🙂


      • purple says:

        A few years ago, I lived in darkness, my writing reflected much of that experience. Eventually, I emerged from that and began “living” again, but the truth remains — I walk between darkness and light, never quite escaping the one, nor fully reaching the other. Your line was a very personal resonation for me.


      • Well, I’d say that I think I know what this like. I’m repeating myself from what I said on the Broken heart and A Walk through the Ashes posts, but yes, I think that everyone who’s sampled darkness, knows that journey.. And we also know how valuable the light is. I think I know exactly what you mean.. Probably why this line means so much to both of us.

        You know, it makes sense that we’re both purple. Auras of blue and red, not yet one, not quite the other. 🙂

        Thanks so much for sharing. 🙂


  4. Madsies says:

    Awesome. ❤
    Penning down something is really relieving sometimes….(Actually, all times…But damn the Laziness!! 😛 )


  5. Sand says:

    I always enjoy reading poems about writing and what sets others to scribbling whether it’s in poetry or prose. The first and last verses of this seem perfectly demonstrative of that. The middle verse, though, tells the story. The need to experience and to examine and reexamine our experiences and fully understand them is, I think, what makes you such a good poet. You’re not just skimming the surface. You’re out there diving.

    It’s been more than 50 years since I penned my first poem. I’d say my life at the time was a post-war wreckage zone but that wouldn’t be quite true as the war was still blowing up the landscape around me. I poured out pain and confusion and guilt and all the negative stuff onto the paper and somehow it relieved me to do so. After a few years of that I finally got my life sort of together and put the pencil and paper down. I scarcely wrote at all for decades after that. Happiness was never a muse. Only miserable episodes (and even the happiest person has those) made words flow onto paper. The darkness owned my pen.

    When I began writing again (a bit more than a decade ago) there was so much more than pain to write. I’d lived so many other ways and had happiness and indignation, passion and peace and sarcastic humor stored away in pockets inside me. And all of them have their emergent moments. Each of them pushes my hand across the paper in its dominant time. The impetus can be a view or a phrase in a book or a conversation or even a dream. Strangely music, so much a part of my past, and visuals, so much part of my present, seldom trip that switch, the one that makes the words spring forth. The indignant poems leave me coldest; the ones the spring from loving memories and from nature please me best.

    Life changes and changes and never stops changing. It’s wonderful to write our way through it all.


    • Right you are, Sand. It’s the closest we get to immortalizing our memories, other than of course keeping a diary.. That’s something beyond me, straightforward words are too exposed. Poetry has the advantage of having secrets hidden within ambiguity.. And if I keep writing as long as you do? I think I’d be able to look back at everything in peace. =)


  6. Mike says:

    You are right to consider this an exemplary piece Cookie, your eloquent metaphor and words come together in a perfection of poetic engineering. Readers will be impressed, but poets will nod sagely, understand immediately and weep with envy. Brilliant – well done.


  7. Thanks for stopping by my blog 🙂 I look forward to reading more on your blog 🙂


  8. Sahm King says:

    Toot your horn for all it’s worth. This is great. I like that you cap off the post with commentary on your work. That’s a great idea!


    • Thanks so much, Sahm! =) it was purely an impulsive thing really. Usually when I’m posting a poem, and it feels like there’s something worth saying, I write it up. Blogging is fun! Lol, hopefully, if I get a book deal, that’ll be fun too. =P


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