What a pretty thing to see words sing
as the lights twirl and flash
what a wicked thing to read words that bring
rage to be ripped and slashed
The pounding of the drum within my head
beats endlessly in the silence of the night
As the words have no rhyme or rhythm
causing one to scream and fight
internally all these things are happening
no one is ever the wiser
when things slip out in ancient tongues
what was a trickle becoming a geyser
no I’m not losing it as it may seem
all these nonsensical words come out as I dream
Powerfully penned, Fia. Excellent write with a musing vibe my friend. Amazing read as always. Appreciate you, Cuz.
Damian
Thank you Damian😊
Excellent write Fia.
Thanks Peter 😊
Extemporaneous and spontaneous! Your poem has stardust expertly thrown all over it. Akin to a lucid dream, the images and interpretations glide freely about, touching down for a mere second. This is the kind of write that gets better and better the more I read it and allow it to absorb. Fantastic piece, Fia.
Thank you for sharing this
Clay
Thank you Detritus😊
There’s so much power in a word. How they’re used is where the danger lies…or the beauty. Nope, there’s nothing nonsensical about this
Thank you Willow😊