the clamdigger and the poet

sometimes these words are raked up begrudgingly from the muck
squishly muddy little disappointing salty clamwords
bringing their fictions to the work in the random
pullingnamesfromahat order that holds no justice
if the world is my page, i’ve got no pen for the pace
nor plot. so much is beyond my ken. that i’ll have to face
but the mood and the rhythm, that i can hold
and with luck, still win the race


for the weekly scribblings at


15 thoughts on “the clamdigger and the poet

  1. I am loving your title, I relate so very much as heritage words, “digging for clams.” A visual set, once in a visit I went clam digging with my grandmotheralong the Iregon beach. I wasn’t feeling cheated when she only found empty clam holes. I was only feeling her love. Her words? Never harsh or unkind for me or anyone else. Only encouraging ones I can remember in a loving way.
    Thank you for this memory recall.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Yes, sometimes writing poetry does feel like digging for words, Eric, and we can only find those ‘squishly muddy little disappointing salty clamwords’. But given enough of them, we can clean them up and make something shinier.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I love the squished together words and odd punctuation – proof you write for yourself (and adoring fans which I am one!) Well penned!

    Liked by 1 person

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