the ideas are:
word poltergeists that possess my mind,
making a mess of the place,
only exorcised by the pen.
the ideas are:
tidal waves smashing into estuaries—
crashing, receding, repeating.
Grab my poetry book, 'we're all just wanderers in the end' Herethe ideas are:
feast or famine—
an epicurean banquet where tasty morsels abound,
or
an arid wasteland where everything goes to die.
the ideas are:
here and gone—
a bullet train with precious cargo,
and
an old rusted minecart, abandoned.
the ideas are:
the only thing that
keeps the pen moving,
the keys clicking,
and the page filled.
the ideas are:
what keeps me going.
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This is a poem from my first book, bearing the burden of existence, available on Amazon.
AD: Your Book Finally Written...
Category: Poetry