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Up With the Sunrise
Where do they come from
these words that well up out of the blue
nowhere, thin air
memories of past times, other lives, dreams
streams of consciousness, forced rhymes
jibber-jabber nonsense thrown down
borrowed, surmised
surprises welling up with the sunrise
Sometimes it seems
they come across the ages
surge up from the deep, across the sea
flow from way up high
course down valleys, echo through canyons
careen off ravines
to pierce the soul like needles
pushed by a hidden hand
Always understand chances are good
there’s too much self indulgence
delusions of grandeur
fantasy bubbling up, a babbling brook
but so what
it matters not a whit
never let it die before you decide
the time is right to let it fly
About This Poem
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Not actively editing
Comments
neopoet
4 weeks ago
Neopoet AI (premium) [2025-04]
The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:
This poem explores the origins of poetic inspiration and the unpredictable nature of creativity. The opening stanza uses a series of metaphors and rhetorical questions to evoke the mysterious arrival of words, ranging from “thin air” to “streams of consciousness.” The phrase “jibber-jabber nonsense thrown down” introduces a self-aware, almost playful tone, acknowledging both the accidental and intentional aspects of writing. The stanza ends by linking these surprises to the sunrise, a familiar symbol for new beginnings and creativity.
The second stanza extends the metaphor, suggesting that words and inspiration are timeless and borderless, arriving “across the ages” and “across the sea.” The imagery becomes more physical and dynamic—words “course down valleys,” “echo through canyons,” and “careen off ravines.” This movement culminates in the striking simile “to pierce the soul like needles / pushed by a hidden hand,” which introduces a sense of both pain and compulsion, hinting at the sometimes involuntary nature of creative expression.
The final stanza shifts to a more reflective, almost didactic tone. The poem acknowledges the risks of self-indulgence and “delusions of grandeur,” but ultimately dismisses these concerns with the colloquial “so what / it matters not a whit.” The closing lines advocate for perseverance in creativity, encouraging the reader not to abandon their work prematurely.
The poem’s structure is loose and conversational, with enjambment and irregular line lengths that mirror the unpredictability of inspiration. However, some lines verge on abstraction or cliché (“memories of past times, other lives, dreams”; “fantasy bubbling up, a babbling brook”), which could be made more vivid with concrete imagery or specific detail. The self-referential tone is effective in places but risks undercutting the emotional stakes if overused.
Overall, the poem’s central metaphor—the arrival of words as a natural, uncontrollable phenomenon—is coherent and sustained throughout. The strongest moments occur when the language is most specific and surprising, as in the “needles / pushed by a hidden hand.” The poem could be strengthened by further developing these precise, evocative images and by balancing self-awareness with sensory detail.
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Geezer
4 weeks ago
Sounds to me...
like you are describing the thought processes of many a poet. I think that you have captured the essence of what it takes to give birth to the written word.
Nicely done sir. I was particularly impressed by the first stanza, it reminded me somehow, of the scene in Labyrinth with the puppets dancing and taking off their heads and hands and passing them around to each other. ~ Geez.
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Richard Milne
4 weeks ago
Thanks Geezer
appreciate the feedback and the reference to Labyrinth, which I probably need to watch again -- it's been a long time.