Monday, May 25, 2015

A Poem in the Making





Sometimes, to set words in order
…to arrange them in the thought
That aches to break free from head-quarters
I cannot

Sometimes thought is like a shadow
Something that we cannot grasp
An elusive sort of vexing shaped by present,
Future, past

Sometimes words seem to evade me
In the quest to spell thought’s howls
They rebel against the ink of consonants
And vowels

Sometimes, to corral a message
In the borders of a poem
Is like capturing wild horses with the brandishing
Of broom

Sometimes, words attempt but will not
Sit quite still enough to stay
Where a poem in the making
Slips away

© Janet Martin 

Do you find that sometimes the thought on the tip of formation refuses, choosing to remain a sense rather than a sentence?

4 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. :) thanks...gets worse with age, it seems!!!

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  2. This is so true! illusive as shadows, and as restless.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. :) glad to hear there's more who suffer from this!

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