Notes About The Poem
For those of us relying on language as sustenance, one's lexicon of nourishment must be continually fed.
With But Words
With But Words
Lungs of time
Forever purging yesterdays fever and chills
clueless of ether's match for now
today's fresh intake of memories waiting
no longer a calm awakening
our ears await the sound
By chance
While morning may coughing bring
sending dream's breath asunder
caring not for the sparrow's retreat from sill
or the disturbed peace of
last nights pages at rest
We stir
How vacuous early hours may seem
as thought takes leave of dreaming's insistent clatter
begging caffeine's amorous embrace
even as inhaling ingests wakeful elements aroused
Soon
The pen is lifted
greeting Mind's quiet place
that realm where magic releases wonder
asking for voices yet explored
Patiently
Our unspoken words
our unwritten thoughts
awaiting vision's full awakening
take flight with the uptake some call
the Ah Hah moment of gratitude
We lean forward
The pen lifted
timely resonance delivers
today's sustenance
tomorrow's next pages
perhaps future's chance to ruminate
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