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Inside of Me

Poetry is what I’d see
If I could peek inside of me.
It pulses, with a beat sublime,
Converting random thoughts to rhyme.

The words secure me, just like roots
But let me float, like parachutes,
So anytime I write a poem,
No matter where I am, I’m home.

mepoetryrhyme

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Jean Murray

October 29, 2016 at 9:27 AM

Spot on Ilene. I hope you entered it in the contest. "Converting random thoughts to rhyme." Love it.

Maurice Rigoler

October 25, 2016 at 4:32 PM

I feel the same way. I can't stop thinking about poems no matter where I'm. Even in my dreams, believe it or not, I find myself composing verse!? Some years ago Someone did use one of my pen names (Max Dinckmann). I complained to the powers that be at Poetry Souo. It's never happened again. So the bulk of my poem is based on my imagination. Thanks for enjoying it. I finished a translation of Appollonaire's poem "Le Cortege des Animaux." Am still tweaking it. Best to you. / M

Ilene Bauer

October 26, 2016 at 7:41 PM

that's funny, because i also find myself thinking of rhymes as i'm drifting off to sleep. sometimes i actually get out of bed to write something down (because i never remember it in the morning). ~ thanks for reading and commenting, maurice, as always...