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Some Thoughts On birthing a poem

Updated on November 23, 2009

On birthing a poem, the labor pains

 

©-MFB III

 

I'm paled, impaled here

by the thoughts

 
that leak from my pen,


hanging over a desk


where my hands and feet


are held fast by my head's

stubborn brainwaves

till from the stub of a pencil

passion is born.


I hunch crucified over

 
the crumpled linen of


all of my past paper

 
efforts discarded,


and yet all the balled humps


that create burial mounds


at my feet have rendered


this sacrifice that is


bled out before me in

 
the finished work.

 
Work which gleams and holds

promise of much joy

in the reading and the

sharing of my dance

across white

compressed bits of

old trees shredded

into many rec tangled

utterances that hold

the multicolored expanses

of the skies within my head.

Grab a flight, hang on to

the hubs of my ink jetted thoughts.

There are over 600 destinations

please feel free to carry on.

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    • tubir87 profile image

      tubir87 7 years ago from Indonesia

      mhhh.... i like it friend.

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