Enchanting melodies turning me inside out,
belying thought of yesterday, as I turn pages
of existence into poetry.
Bouncing down aisles of interpretive thought,
working their way into visions of now.
Suffocating images from without, quieting
their dispositions as interior awareness fills
my every thought.
Focusing only on what my mind is creating,
poetry fulfills many hours of happiness as I
wander aimlessly free of coercion from outside
influence.
Taking strides of liberty with all ideas becoming
of age in a pattern of literature, creating new
puzzles of amazement.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem