The flames of wrath
burned ever so tall,
Each flickering thought
scorching the mind with licks of frustration...
The reflective pools of memory,
Time and space within all,
Tampered the red hot psyche
into cold hard steel.
With stone like resolve,
I sharpen the edge -
Warrior's meditation -
will the blade
skewer, sever;
Or parry, protect?
Rock (Skipping) Solo
No one cares about the individual pebbles -
Be they sonnets, polished and smooth
or free verse, rough like a rebel,
The intent of creation does not perturb nor sooth
Pure enjoyment of the motion of pen on paper, like power pitches:
Add spin, just to scratch the cranial itches ---
The occasional one that hops with wit or rhyme
(Like sensational songs that drop and disappear with time)
Somber or playful, skip away into the ambivalent ambiance.
Be they sonnets, polished and smooth
or free verse, rough like a rebel,
The intent of creation does not perturb nor sooth
Pure enjoyment of the motion of pen on paper, like power pitches:
Add spin, just to scratch the cranial itches ---
The occasional one that hops with wit or rhyme
(Like sensational songs that drop and disappear with time)
Somber or playful, skip away into the ambivalent ambiance.
