just a piece
“I write what comes to mind.
It is like sharing a piece of yourself.
I guess I am just a lover of words”
We call it spontaneity, something that
Comes from an impulse
There is nothing premeditated,
Like a burst of applause
Indigenous, something that grows
Without any cultivation like some ferns
And lichens or moss on the rocks
Of our watered paths
That which nature gives
Freely and unconstrained
Like sunshine like rain
In fact, this spontaneity
Is the highest and best form of
it is Not forethought
it is As instinctive as breathing
As involuntary as
Suspense and surprise
Combined less the promptitude
is that what you are,
My friend, and automatic hi
And automatic hello?
A spontaneous combustion,
A spontaneous propulsion?
Like the three Princes of Serendip
Whose discoveries are made
By accident and sagacity and not
By an old quest, or conquest
Yes, I agree, the poems work that way.
Comments about this poem (just a piece by RIC S. BASTASA )
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