In this kingdom of my vast and eclectic mind,
I sometimes stroll in aimless pensive kind,
with thoughts so lost in translation
they circle like vultures, swoop in careless glee,
with nowhere else to be,
just broken free from my machinations.
And in this desert of dusty plains,
windswept and dry for all the rains that couldn’t,
that wouldn’t cleans these lonely thoughts,
words adrift in endless skies
where blues in hues of sad reprise
just float on forever.
Sometimes phrases come to mind,
as if to entice, to bring to mind their past,
where I first empowered them,
found beauty in their rhymes or purpose
in their fine expressions of intention,
a dereliction of my duty to have let them go.
But fragments make not the whole,
and adrift they seem so alone,
I just wish I could restore them all
to beauty’s hold,
not allow their wandering as I,
in the emptiness of this kingdom of solace.
Words collect above in flocks of radiant purpose,
the surface of a sky the shadow of so many,
and choose I do in random view,
to incite that stream of creativity,
that so assumes my mind to write,
to find a path in poetry’s plight, ensue.
And so from inner thoughts they rise for place,
to find the grace of artistry,
and follow thoughts to black and white
the flight of words and phrases
that might engender minds to open wide,
and listen in their favor.
So rich this process of flow,
where minds immersed in creative thought
know exactly what they want,
and as each word and phrase is spent,
stanzas rise and fall, lament,
a blessing for all installed.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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