Stagnant | Poetry
When you want to write but can't
My passions burn, oh, how cliche,
to describe my well-fanned flame,
but simple words can not contain
the power of your every touch.
Nor meager dots, lines and tailsÂ
can span the scale of symphony,
no trumpets sounds or timpany
to harmonize our heady lust.
And yet I try and try again,
tho' ill-equipped this tragic farce,
creative juices sadly sparse
against the page's waiting grain.
My pen quakes silent turbulence,
as if it knows what dwells within.
I found a bunch of my older poetry, and thought I would start sharing my favorites here.
What madness this?
That leads to words unwritten?
Emotions roil, and boil and bubble
A cauldron for a brain,
Ruled by fickle Amygdala,
Goddess of the strongest emotions,
Fierce protector of the tender child within.
I cannot write when I am in my lesser age
Surely latent maturity will guide me to a place
Where words flow like molten sauce over the frigid surface of
My not yet cold, dead heart.