Mrs. Yolanda Nicholsen Poet Quatrain

This beautiful creature lives in me

I am but a poet not a scholar 
but a writer creating my own 
network of emotions balanced 
over sudden mental break’s 
absence of tolerance to be 
quieted to be numb empty 
eccentrically desired memoirs 
that allow sullen matter with 
the meetings of the minds 
quoting my very existence 
catered to the finite infamous 
wisdom of my sheer beauty 
bestowed hidden scrolls within 
my grasp a goddess of art poetry 
and song I am patient I am loud 
only in my thoughts a muse 
as I tremble like rumbling thunder 
beneath the midst of Apollos
hear when I simple can’t find the 
right words the gravity that forms 
to actually place pen to paper 
as I study the slow movement 
the minute hand on vintage
brass clocks I master time 
clinging to the chimes the springs 
the nuts the bolts while the second 
hand fascinates me counting ever 
grain of sand within the hour glass 
my figure outlined to make them 
began again and again with my song 
when there’s absolutely nothing 
left I fear being lost without 
rational thinking malice folds 
beneath me like white linen 
as I am aching pondering about 
the essence of my own poetic 
gesture that simply reads write 
you beautiful exceptional creature

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