Nigel Fawcett Poet Free verse

Rhapsodic

eyes, suddenly open
         in the night (mine)
misty (they)
panting, sweating (me)

I bleed some words onto a page

how do they feel?
(these words)

what are they trying
        to say? (to you)

what do they want?
        (from me)

I sleep again
fitfully

words…pages…books…writing

flashing through my
                thoughts
maybe these thoughts are
                dreams
is a dream a wish?
a thought an action?

I must have slept
for it is morning now
and I am calm

the page looks at me
(expectantly)

I ignore it
it wants too much of me
always demanding

but don’t they know that
        I love them?
        (these words)
I sweat over them
nurture them

I want them to be quiet
            (tranquil)

I want them to grow up
            (be whole)

I can ignore the screams
        no longer
I carry the page
        to my desk
and consume its patterns
is it happy?
            (this page)
does it need feeding
            some more
        or is it replete?

another word drips unbidden
        to the page
        to fall among its
            siblings

is it happy with where
        I put it?
has the page
        accepted it?

it seems so, because
        the weight and shape
            seem
balanced
the page has stopped
        its incessant noise
and the words have
            settled
        comfortably

but when I read it
does it say
what I wanted?
        (to you, to me)

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Colin Mitchell Williams November 4, 2008 at 1:21 PM Hello Nigel... the delicate procrastinations of a poet penned............( hmmmmm did I get that right...... ) ( just read over it one more time...... ) :) Bravo ! Bravo ! Nigel

Barbara Gorelick November 4, 2008 at 9:48 AM Your words always seem to "settle comfortably". I do hear the angst though...this need to write is sometimes a hard load to bear. You inspire! BG