Friday 17 August 2012

Poetry

The words are Elements
inhabiting us
for the sake of expression.
They shape themselves
into screams and melodies –
Primal upheaval –
concentrated like acid
they burn and scar,
strip off the skin
and reveal the hidden core.

It is delicate –
balancing them along
coils of brains
and cells of nerves
until they reach
tips of fingers
and clothe the blankness
of pages in wait.

I struggle –
to hold them in shape
to let them flow.

Childbirth must be less intellectual

2 comments:

  1. I sometimes laugh looking at the virtual world
    Where it's simple to act and pretend not to see
    Emotions can be rated and likes are tossed
    Oh brother where art though
    All the goodness is lost and gone
    Empty cup I hold
    For there is no fountain of GOD (or man)
    The road to salvation ends here ...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Correction: Oh brother where art THOU

    ReplyDelete