Poetry

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Trip the light fantastic, light the perfect beat.
Cut me, please, to the quick, then I feel the heat.
Don't you dare be alone. I will be with you.
Being false is not my home. Live with me, so true.

My ear will hear your emotion, every laugh and tear.
Ride this life's immense ocean, even over fear.
Join me in the rhetoric, but only with the rhythm.
Dance so fine-that's the trick, antonym and synonym.

This is rhythmic rhetoric, a small part of little me.
Here's my pen, vast and quick, showing what I see.
As always, it's my heart, whether or not you're pleased.
It may tear your heart apart, or make you feel appeased.

I am hiding in the words, can you see my heart?
Inspiration comes in spurts. My joy then blows apart.
Oh, I'm lost, but not sad. Here is where I thrive.
Why these words make me glad? Youth is back alive.

Can't you hear it in the swell, in the sounding of my soul?
Pulling words from this well. I drink and feel so whole.
Oh, my dear, come with me, to my wordly home.
Let me write of what I see. I'd rather not write alone.

What's the meaning of this resonance? Why this little spurt?
Something of me is in this instance. A composition's flirt.
Even with each syllable I would dare to wink.
Now this cup is very full. I'm gone in a blink.

But I'll be back, with so much more, declaring with a dare.
I've so much left in store, and I love to share.
Oh these words are so sweet, souring even honey.
It's too bad they're not meat, or making me some money.

© 12-3-2010

Note: Radically different from what I usually write, except the rhyme form. It's an experiment in using words strictly as a beat to themselves.

What's interesting is that, while not meaning to write a message, a message came through, unintentionally.

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