The words
are slow
to come.
One at a time
trembles upon my lips
before spilling forth.
Slowly
picking up speed
they
flow
at first
like a lazy undulating
stream through
a crowded wood.
And then
as the pressure
builds towards
release
like a
raging rapids
words
leap over
submerged
emotion,
rushing forth
to be expressed,
to share,
to enlighten,
to dance,
to rage,
to comfort,
to share...
Always to
share.
That internal
need
to share
one's self
through the
use of
words
whether
spoken
or written.
Poem's style fits nicely into its meaning and connotations
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem - you may like to read mine entitled Volcano (relating a more negative usage of words) .