Poems in my Head
By Paul B
There are poems in my head, Left there, rotting, remaining unsaid. Muses and thoughts Words I've wanted to say. Music almost, tunes of sorts. But when they form a coherent thought At that instant they die. In the test of flame Like many truths absolute They leave me limp, feeling lame. As through I had a peddler's sack Clanking and banging As it swung on my back Trinkets of no import A salute to naught. Dark mysteries of which to be scared Swirl and turn in my head, It's only music It's only rhythm Another gulp of coffee and I'll be fine. 23/06/00 Written January 9th, 2002 © on Jan 09 2002 08:23 AM PST 0 • 1
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"There are poems in my head,..."