The Suffering Writer... a poem is born
Coming through
some hurtful bit of unexpected, uninvited pain,
only that allows me to ever write again
knowing the eventual
expectedness of joy
just as essentially silence
it seems to grow from noise,
and the shaking of the common ground
lends to the element of poise
emotions caught on paper
so loyal to stay put,
do more to exhaust the tension
than counsel ever could
like Winter dies
for Summer;
thus, inspiration born
just like burgeoning seasons
my hollowed out existence
allow my words to thus be formed
praying that my raving
may bring the remembrance
of my name,
Not to hope the elusiveness of fortune
or the costliness of fame
Instead hoping that somehow
at some point
I just, in someway may be heard,
that is the power
(I think)
of the weaving of these words
Laurinzo Scott c 2013