Between the Lines

Stirred. Blurred. Deferred. A haze of thoughts. In the raw. Unprocessed unpolished. Ethereal feral. Impulses really. I might drown. A sea of ambiguity. Random content in my private universe. At times, I can’t be bothered. At times, I want them loud and clear. At times, I want to scream and be heard. Ofttimes, in time that can’t be rushed, ofttimes, so deep they must be mined, my words must form within a forge. I capture what takes shape and worth, from medleys of thoughts sublime that seize their moments; coming forth to shine as lines when flames combine. I cannot say, before their time is ripe, the fullness of my thoughts, voiced without fear. I'll wait a while for words that set alight, that frame them, read aloud for all to hear. To capture rhyme, and then to set in place as treasured memories of grief or joy. To speak my mind with clarity and pace in metered euphony that I'll employ. Now, heard aloud, at last I say my part; what's written need not die without a voice. Once polished, may it then be known as Art? The verdict will be in the critic's choice. And so I write -- so that I will not die without a voice for all I could not say. Unburdened and uncluttered, let me fly full-fletched in colours, darting into day. AP: 1st place 2022, Honorable Mention 2022 Collaboration with Kirk Tierney - based on my poem 'Writing Is How I Connect' Posted on September 2, 2022