If you write a word
in the middle
of a piece of paper
and just leave it there.
All by itself.
A word like, ‘it’ for example.
Left all alone on a page.
With no other words
to butt up against.
After a while ‘it’ loses all meaning.
‘It’ becomes something else.
Colour. Shape. Form.
But then, there are other words.
Words like,
‘if,’
‘when,’
‘how’
Those words.
Those words when left all alone in the middle of a page.
Still hold such promise.
A thought provoking piece, I know how “it” feels .
I'm soon to post my own reflection, having plagiarised your idea. As Jim says, you may have started something. Of course, I like word play, which often gets the better of me (noise/Noyes!), but I think the collective sparks are better when they fly...
I was intrigued when you read this one. Having stared at it on screen, for me your poem is a sort of lesson in the role of words in sentences. 'It' is so versatle it gives no clues whereas the other words suggest a question or the begining of a sentence. You may have started 'A Poet's Guide to English Grammar.' Well that's what I got out of it!