Poetic Realm
Words, out of rhyme,
twisted like branches
reaching out for the light.
Words, impatient to escape,
a song thrashing to be sung,
struggling to be heard.
Words, an organism wiggling
its way out of a hard cocoon
that it may holler ‘look, it’s me!’
Words, imaginary rumbling
zipping out of a poet’s brain,
yet real to breathe on its own.
Words, meaningless until
finally written and spoken,
freed from the soul’s confine.
A damn fool forming words
popping out like cannonballs!
don't ask why, it's just that way.
Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2008
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