Far from sky and earth
passing galaxies of neurons
through a vast pallium void
there is a tranquil place
shimmering with rainbow colors
feeding creations’ furnace
a place that beckons
flirting with natures’ meaning,
a place that knows no master
nor is itself a master,
it lies so distant, yet
complete a circle of being
and it is there, barely awake,
holding within all that can be,
cerebrum volute dreams of forever,
what it knows is unknown,
there to be freely taken, if only
we would open its door.
The interlocutors at We Write Poems blog for this week’s prompt wrote: flip the coin, we’re taking tails not heads! Our exercise is both simple and physical. We invite you to write using your “other” (non-primary) hand (right-handed folks, use your left, and likewise reversed if you’re left-handed please).
When the left hand conspires with the right brain, cryptic notes follow the meeting.
Right-handed; I am not ambidextrous,
Left-brained for written articulation,
The off hand an unaccomplished wanderer.
Left hand writing is unfamiliar water.
I imagine it is as a jelly fish swims,
The left hand lacks structure,
There is no discernible backbone,
The corpus of thought is weak,
Anxiety replaces the flow of poetic reason.
The writer thus cast upon barren shores,
An exercise in tongue chewing consternation.
The mind becomes a Pope’s inquisitioner,
Verbs, adverbs, nouns a torture rack.
Obviously my right-brain is untutored,
Lacking left-hand to right-brain intellect
I am done with this exercise.
There is preference for left-brain normality,
This then begs a double-entente question,
When confronted with the right-handed left-brain,
And its superior sociability politic of thought,
Of what use is the left hand unlateralized right side?