DM Babbit Poet Quatrain

On Rhyme

There is this sudden drive me 
 that grips me firm and bold 
 hanging on and forcing out politely
 secrets my mind holds.

At first it seemed a small explosion
 of thoughts and feelings unexplained
 but more I think of its erosion
 may come a loss within my brain.

I sleep, I wake, I doze and drift
 as the written words begin to fade
 with song and rhyme once a gift
 relay my feelings on parade.

Each breath I take replaces one before
 and the number is uncounted
 but the moments rise without keeping score
 and thinking persists rebounded.

All words then find their way
 contemplating where next to roam
 to gain their voice and say
 of how the heart finds home.

Sometimes the words are overwhelming
 slipping and tugging,  directing my hand
 as words spring forth compelling
 to spread forth upon the shore like grains of sand.

So there you are, a word or two or three or four
 my unyielding thoughts on rhyme,
 release the hounds of mental war
  then rest, unwind, all will again be fine.

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