Monday, June 10, 2019

Breathing

I am filled with words.
Words I wish to become poems.

My poems beg simple ordinary
words in colorful dress. 
I inhale and exhale words 
that sing, whisper and scream at me.

Words, pirouette, spiral, revolve
leap, spring, changing their hues 
constantly, beige to bronze
mauve to crimson, amber to ebony.

These words expand and bloat me
fill my sleep with dreams 
of dark cloaked demons
laughing sprightly sprightly spirits
in gossamer attire pleading
to become poems, poems, poems.
 
LCB - June 2019
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