Birth of a Poem

I have come to face my nemesis

As she roams through paper woods,

Swims in aqueous lakes of words,

Builds for metaphors their nests.

Agile rascal

With hands of light

And for skin a viper’s coat;

She has no mouth, my ill muse,

No power to speak or chant,

No sweetened tongue to dictate.

She stares into magic holes

Full of dangerous wild gems

And wears them!

As eyes she wears them

And judges life through their tint.

Psychedelic eyes, best of highs,

Vomiting lovely rhapsodies,

They swirl, tremble, enlarge,

Fill with poetry my head,

Tornados of masochism,

Portals of mind-bending games.

I have come to make her write

I have come to live through her

And through her quite surely die. 

Reviews

[V]

A great piece of poetry again, much to gain from your words, your expressions are rich in images and delicate wording.

[Marian Elizabeth]

Thank you. I had some doubts about it, but I think that I just needed to read it and truly feel it and dwell in the imagery for a while.

[V]

The authors frequently doubts, that's normal. It is a very nice piece. You're welcome.