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Poem

The waves sounded so strong to me,
Stronger, heavier, thicker, tickly tilted.
I looked at it tail and head, picking the
Grains of its eyebrows dashing away;
It made my hair stood still on my neck.
When I looked, it was poetry; a poetic words
Sounding, gliding in gayish embryo like a foetus.
The zygote of its waves drummed heavily on
The mouth of my scribbing pen.
I heard the sound over and over...
Sounding, recording, beating, appealing 
To my soul as I moved to touch a head;
A head of poetry and caress a tail I saw;
A buttressed beautiful tail of poetry.
The elephantry of my eardrum stood,
A word I never knew came tempting,
A song I never sang rose in my throat.
I wish I could write a poem I can't read,
I wish I could read a poem I can't write;
The sound waves I can't listen to here,
A word that can't be combined to form a sentence.
In the physics of my heart I knew I have fallen
In love with a sound waves so pure like the
Rhythm of Enya.


(C) John Chizoba Vincent
      Voice Of Vincent 2016

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