Poet in the Rain

The Words Are Flying

11/26/2010

Copy Write © 2010 Gordon Kuhn

Damnit!

The words are flying wide and wild this brooding sleepless night,

but none seem to fall in line, nor stay long enough within my sight

to deliver options to my pen, nor to charge the ink lying waiting therein,

a dark liquid which seems to understand my depths of joylessness wherein

I slip in struggle against ill thoughts, brooding views, a clinging fight

and calling shadows show, to me, to the world, a false delight

while trying to raise the alarm and mount a force for urgency to fight

as the fever presses in and is not so soft in touch or pressure light

and there find self trapped, wrapped tight in a blanket of self inflicted doubt

questioning all that lay exposed within a single candle’s flickering light

while all belief told might not be true that comes anxious into view

and a candle weak could easy lose its light if the wind a bit stronger blew.