The Discarded Page of Half Formed Poems

Just out of interest, I started several poems on the same page with no intention of finishing them to see how it worked out. Just wrote til I got bored of the thought, then moved on. I wonder how many discarded poems we all have that may or may not deserve their place in the bin. (Could be a novel idea for a contest). Taking a stroll Talking to strangers Strangled for talk Straight for the taking Took a short cut Transformed the scenery Shout from the tomb Scanning the transcript ----- Freefall and float Hardly a mantra I should keep my feet on the ground Freefall and float Despite ----- So easily lifted Though with such ease do I swoop I need lessons on air currents Wide open spaces to practice My aerial acrobatics ----- As my eyes open and close Pictures are taken Those pictures absorbed by my mind Memories accessed, thoughts formed in half measures, discarded or pushed to the side The looking out from my eyes I feel in my chest Conscious of harm I may find Do I rest as I close them Or rest as they open Is safety knowing or blind As I scan and lose focus The messages still flow ----- The wind blows with a howl Cobwebs torn freely Their builders knew to move on Take my dusty endeavours Wind that blows with a howl Those tethers need to be gone ----- Light that doesn't make it All the way into a darkened room May stand in solitary strips on a wall Diffuse before getting far enough Dance playfully, changing shape on a whim These are like the ungrasped thoughts Arrived and ready But not immersing me in light They'd disappear should I reach out Remain an enigma Until I've done so much guesswork I've left them behind as I chase darkness instead