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Some Thoughts On birthing a poem

Updated on November 23, 2009

On birthing a poem, the labor pains




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 8 years ago from Indonesia

      mhhh.... i like it friend.