The posings of a poet.


I need to write today so I will I will not think I will write I will make the words flow
And before I know it they come of their own accord like pets to the sound of dinner here we go
Circling and pawing at the edges of awareness I sense them
I must write today or risk losing my mind such as it is and send myself over the very brink
Or else sit in all I’ve soaked in like a sponge and instead of wringing out sour and begin to stink
And possibly my very soul condemn
I will sit silently as my mind rolls over the shore of an I land and the breeze of my brain
Sifts softly through the fields of meadowtation and my imagination surreptitiously provides the rain
And suddenly there comes the groundbreaking growth of a stem
Now the words sprout and spring forth of their own accord more and more too many to harvest at one time
So great an amount it is difficult to keep from drowning in this vast sea of rhythm and rhyme
So I dive down and pray that this time I find a gem

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