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Something about Poetry that Grips Me
There’s something about poetry that grips me
Like gravity does the moon,
While I keep trying to let it go
It treats me like a loon.
As if I can’t control myself
And these urges in my veins,
To compose another line or two
And extinguish all the flames.
Like a Phoenix that keeps rising
From out of the deep dark blue,
And never allows my mind to rest,
No matter where or what I do.
To alleviate these phantom-like flashes
Of memories like comet tails,
Shooting across my mind and sky
As if carrying the Holy Grail.
Portending they have something important to say
To the world, to you and me,
And yet in the end it’s more like the wind
Whispering like Sirens of Titan, “Set us free.”
With notions of emotions
Full of love, lust, hate and loss,
The circle of life through dark and light
And Jesus on the Cross.
Let the words come forth right out of the source
Of wherever thoughts are conceived,
The Quantum Field, the “Plenum” revealed
The Great Maker of all we think and believe.
The vacuum of space where only a trace
Of vibration quivers out there,
Sending the Muses to confound and confuse us
Poets who dutifully dare.
As I do what I must to let go and trust
These poetic thoughts that abound,
That the words will unfold like silver and gold
And a treasure may someday be found.
© Terrell Martin, 02/22/2025
Copyright ©
Terrell Martin
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