words come to me in batches
for days they will include witches, goblins and jack-o-lanterns
like obsessions, they include spell books, brooms, bats and ghosts
in an abrupt about face
they change alliteratively into dogs doing daring deeds daily.
wild wildebeests wishing we were wayfaring wanderers.
prancing princesses providing presents proving professorships.
I do not control them, they are in charge of me.
today’s words were in my head before I got out of bed.
I heard the last two lines of a poem I had been creating in my sleep.
not unusual unfortunately.
What is unusual is if I remember them.
words can be playful, joyful, happy, friendly and kind.
this is when I am concentrating on poems for children
I do not think you can be too optimistic for them.
when they turn dark, gloomy and morose, I am shocked.
these are not my words, I think. Who am I channeling?
Poe? Coleridge? a serial killer?
words set the stage for my daily life.
their ambiance creates my mood.
I have no idea where they originate.
But they end up on a typed page.