Written by: Bob Quinn

Boiling and effervescent
thoughts roil around my head,
the tumult won’t be stifled
till of them I am bled.

Ideas, thoughts, emotions,
fears, plots and enormous dread,
could spill out covering everything
with all I wish I’d said.

For the voices will not leave me
I go where I am led,
the day throughout my waking
at night, retired to my bed.

Seldom the muse has failed me
when words to write have fled,
ideas grow and ink will flow
the two forever wed.

Gift or curse I know not
ignored or eagerly read,
words here spawned won’t leave me
till the day that I am dead.