When It Finds Us
Most nights begin the hunt
for some lows and highs
We open up the gate
of stampeding characters,
vanishing vowels and consonants
in our seldom-worded dreams
Clicking and tapping ideas,
rapid colorful images
painted in our minds,
we snap and pursue
again and again,
until almost gone
Chase!
And so we chase
the gentlest and the wildest
to end their quiet witchery
When it is done,
poetry finds us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i really like the idea of this poem; you convey the emotions of the poetry-writing process very well and it's a really neat idea. It makes me wish that I could write poetry =/ Any way, there are some parts of this poem that could be smoother, but overall, it's really good!