In the depths of silence
Pits of despair
Holes of doubt
I savour the word
Those delicious vowels and syllables
Hard consonants and crisp suffix;
I let them roll on my tongue
When I (inspiration) = 0,
The # of P (poems) < N (normal)
And the value of P < 2
However, when I = 1,
We never thought
It would happen so soon
That things would end
As we drive into the parking lot and pull into a spot,
The seashore park receives us with open arms and a friendly welcoming gesture,
While fresh salty scent of the ocean playfully slips into the car through the open windows
And sprinkles its blessing on our heads, leaving a vague feeling of longing and contentedness in the backseat;
I'll keep writing...
As long as there are
Sights to see
Sounds to hear
In a bitter chiselling winter gust,
Dusty flecks of snow whirl about in the air around me,
Enveloping my figure in a spiral of white,
While I wait impatiently for my bus to appear on the horizon.
Conversation With a Neighbour:
Hi, Mr. Myers.
I'm doing great, thanks. What about you?
Oh, that's good to know.
Stop being so opaque!
Oh why, why can't you see
That I won't ever hurt you
Just let your inner self be free-
If a rogue paintbrush clattered to the floor and happened to catch my eye,
I would lure it to my fingers with a palette smothered with rich, vivid paints
Luxurious hues and shades it would love
And rested in my light but commanding grip, I would let it unlock for me