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Doing Seventy To Eighty Years, With No parole....A Poet's Life term.

Updated on January 2, 2010

Sentences not yet served
still imprisoned in my mind
are released by emotions,
blinking in the incredible
brightness of thought,
they emerge as so many words
expelled in tidy orders,
from the convictions of my soul

Other words yet released,
languish locked
in brain cells,
logic is the key,
held at bay by my
lack of understanding
of free verse.

Some thoughts
are let out
far too early,
pardoned by ignorance
they are soundly rejected
by society,
and remain
hardly ever retained,
their disorderly conduct
is judged lacking
by sharper minds,
and so they vanish
in the blank pages
of the illiterate.

When I set my poetry free,
as the Warden of my dreams
I make sure that it is
only after time served
correcting the flaws,
so that it is wanted, and read
when at last it shows promise
to contribute to others.

I share it's potential,
then turn it loose and watch
as it goes dancing joyously,
out from the bondage
of my stagnant mental block
and into the volumes of love
treasured by other peoples minds
as well as my own.

 

©-MFB III

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    • Tom Cornett profile image

      Tom Cornett 8 years ago from Ohio

      Really cool poem...a unique outlook...thanks! :)