Treasure Island

Barbara Fleury


The Mastication of Verse


Writing poetry is like digesting a delicious thought. It occurs
in tiny bites that are linked by a fluid structure. The enzymatic action
which makes it easier to understand and demand
of oneself the truth at hand is the rapture
of the mind. The passion of the written word to depict
the kind of appropriate imagery, seductive and seeking productivity
of the art that is inundated with smart
similes and metaphors of the word selections stored in the mental data
banks.

To my voracious desire for vocabulary
I give thanks. As it departs from my mind to the page
I embark on a journey with which I may frame the ideas nestled
in the thought stream. Then comes the serene dance of my dreams.
Rivulets begin bubbling with a sample line then the origin
of the rest comes from the unconscious sublime
of this poet’s mind.

Begging to be displayed in ink, black and white as some
may say is my linguistic ardor to share the farther reaches
of description with imagery which can enhance my truth or fiction.
From the decision to write, I set the stage for an indulging of my desires
and don’t fight the raging fire as I seek a higher level of woven melody
and language which can break down walls, the depths in which I revel.

At the end I am languorously spent
from the enigmatic voyage through my mind
as I vent and share the elliptical lyrical measure of this simple pleasure.

Submitted: Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Edited: Thursday, December 26, 2013

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