This Needy Beggar

A single image

motivates these words

that come –

their poetry too,

and the love of it.

Words piled up

on the edge of thought,

ready to be set free –

intact with integrity,

complex still, their exit

as they struggle to shape 

a sense of worth.

How brave their black

rests, solemn on the white

of the page – like flowers
in a field, born there

in exaltation, readying

themselves for the

magnitude of the task
at hand – their burst into life.

.....

Beneath the window

where I do my homework,

scribbling hard recent musings
attached to this beautiful day –

words and mind co-mingle,
desparate to keep in touch

amidst the swell of perception.

The mind, a needy beggar
generously feasting on words
in want of their singular vibrato,

that steadily gyrates, heaving within.


.....

But, I wonder still,

what, if anything, 

becomes of all 

that is left unspoken, 

unsurfacing because

of the dialogue's

penchant for darkness.

Enigmatic, the silence
of each word's

abstruse aloofness –

their shyness mocked
by the hand that writes

as they resist the chaos 

that is this poem –
this mess of words 

caught struggling
within their own

unregulated bloom.

.....

In the poem’s growth

it is hoped that a view,
 if willed, will unfold.

As angular fortitudes
are cast horizontally
across surfaces of white –

stares of pitched theorems

swim in elliptical space

and in time something essential 
will take shape, arising out of 
something once imagined.