To Be a Poet, Oft Strong Commands Come At Night

To Be A Poet, Oft Strong Commands Come At Night Oh, gawd- comes raging middle of the night This horrid current, rise up and now write An electric jolt, firing through me bones Of new fortress looming, huge granite stones And that tingle surging from old waking soul As pagan's carving of a totem pole Words spilling out from a resistant heart Pen and paper screaming, hurry let's start! Stumbling amidst and across dim-lit room Word flowing from life or else dreaded doom Splash, splash as ink and paper newly wed Old verses, that a spirited mind said Some few flavored with Shakespearean awe Other's cuttings from old lumberjack's saw! And I, vessel to set these ravings down Of love, a princess in her golden gown Dancing slowing across a ballroom floor One never knows what else comes through that door! Robert J. Lindley, Nov. 2nd 1978 Rhyme, ( When Poetry Forces A Poet To Wake Up And Write )