Let Me Tell You Something (spoken version)

MY APOLOGY: I went on a bit of a rant last week and deleted myself from a boatload of accounts that were taking up too much mental-space. Soundcloud was one of these accounts and therefore, the below recording no longer exists. I am looking for an alternative and will post the spoken word piece as soon as I find it.

Thanks for reading!



Let Me Tell You Something

A lot of us are liars,
telling tales long past our days
of being out of school.

We’re the quiet town criers
selling our souls
on every street corner.

You may think you know us,
but every word we say could be truth
or fiction.

Anyone who uses—
anyone who chooses
their words so carefully,
should arouse your suspicion.

And when the muse conspires
with us to summon up
some notions we want to disperse
(be it story, tale, or verse),
we must discern
if we even dare trust her.

Just because you follow
us in our addiction—think
you’ve got us sussed,
(maybe I’m the biggest liar—
or worse, someone else entirely).

Kathleen Mortensen © 2017

Calling All Poets and Scribes! Poetikat’s Writing Prompt


Click for source.

I’ve been trying to find another way of pricking my poetic muse into activity and I came up with this notion.  You will often see these exercises on blogs or social networks where you are asked to grab the nearest book, go to a certain page and reveal a certain line to your readers.  I would like to adapt this method to spur on the muse.  Please! Do join me.

1. Pick up the nearest book

2. Flip the pages (with eyes closed)

3. Stop the pages with your hand

4. Point anywhere on the page.

5. Read the word (or words)

6. Write about it. (Poetry, prose…you choose.)

7. Tell us which book it came from.


The following poem comes courtesy of Martha Grimes’s book, ‘The Old Wine Shades”. (If you keep tabs on my sidebar, you’ll notice that I am currently wading through it, since it’s not the best book I’ve ever read.)

The poem below is Grimes’s recompense for my time. The words were: grey stone

Grey Stone Wall


Go now, to the grey stone wall;

tug on the chink

and unsink the flood.

Follow the river that comes

from the hole;

follow, though it be

filled up with snakes.

You will toss

and spill your soul

into the swells

as slippery rocks


head over heel

with the rush

and roar.

Soon ( you’ll be moving

so fast)

you will reach

the delta

where all your dreams

will be wide-spread—

or side-swiped.

Choose wisely

the stream;

go with the flow,

but never fail

to look back

from whence you came—

the grey stone wall.


Kat Mortensen©2010 
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Participants in Poetikat’s Prompt:

Ann@ Ann’s Reading Corner