What stays my hand that I can not let my mind recall the thoughts so deep inside?
What holds my tongue as I try to write them clearly down in black and wide?
Who knows what way the truth should flow from me into your own eyes?
Who says it will turn out as wretched as the view so dark within me lies?
But yet here I am in stagnant state and rigamortis grows ov'r my fingers
No grieving squirm can move me from such apathy and so neglect lingers
And dries the ink before it sets itself upon the page so crisp and willing
Another day goes by and no explanation of the long awaited spilling.
If I had but a chance I would speak of the Common Yellowthroat outside my door,
Constantly watching while picking at the feeder and leaving a mess upon the floor.
And tell of the geese flying overhead as they honk directions from Billy to Pat.
And loud annoying dogs who whimper and the smell from a long dead decaying rat.
If I had a piano over my bed I could save the poor boy from such monstrosity.
So give me strength to scribble the vague shadows of my dreams with curiosity
Then I will show you what has been held at the damn of my mind
To give sound to the deaf and sight to the blind.
Mise le Meas, June 17th very late at night sitting at home after a massive absence from showing any effort to write poetry. This morning at home in my insomnia a Common Yellowthroat I spotted at the new bird feeder which gave fierce light to my heart. This week news told of Freddy Mercury having a piano over his bed and so he wrote Bohemian Rhapsody after a insightful dream...
No comments:
Post a Comment