Jerry Whalley Poet Free verse

The Swell and Bell of Beat

in the way that your lips shimmer and your eyes flash simile-smiles making many reflections
with the irregular undulations rhythm'ng off your tongue,
with words flying out lyrically, kissing everyone

we are touched and easily forgotten in this age of impermanent ink, 
with our ears perched high on a mystery, we're overlooked
for speaking in clouds expectant of thunder,
for rustling leaves in a tree,
for threadbare jeans flaking mud from long walks by the river,
                                    for taking solace in the Sea

among writers we are the infirm, the mad heretics of desire,
ridiculed for whiskers and soft-eyes, 
for bumping into enjambments, fish-like
and working out destiny by changing it,
moving it, Moon like...

we are the occasional ones,
risking decay and our sanity
for these holy short comings
                                    and goings,
rather than face the impossibility of facts
or that self-righteous blind-eye of economics ...

there is mercy in this daring,
there is an art to this astonishing,
beyond these reasons which trap us,
beyond our need to pay the rent,

while the world conspires to ignore us,


we swell

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