I am looking for a new word,
deep down wrapped in holy world,
fresh from a christening, or other religious rite,
still smelling of baby oil or sweet grass or liniment.
Inside I become different,
suddenly awake to this strange reunion with verse,
Time sucked so many years out of creative life.
Must force brain to work.
I need my miner’s light,
each time I pick up another book,
carting my baggage after me like a bum,
carving into my mind new tunnels,
digging to new worlds,
Poems lie inside like my babies did,
feeding on life, floating in liquid,
My gut, my spleen, my now quiet mind
is newly alive with ideas full of life.
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1 comment:
beautifull expressed :)
you know you have a way with words try and exert yourself more to write...you really are good at writing if only you are more regular on the blogging circuits...
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