Monday, July 13, 2009

PUTTING OUT THE FIRE (The Poetic Pyromaniac)

A mind at rest.
Languishing in the excitement.
Thoughts still simmering, but coming to rest.

Monday, and your ember,
that had been sparked last Wednesday, has been
consumed in a wordy residue of ashen rhyme.

You feed on this;
the thrill of expressiveness
fills your vacated soul, needing to strike again.

You live for this.
It is your passion and desire;
your wanting and your requirement.

You stack your papers on your desk,
and douse your thoughts with the gasoline of possibilities,
ideas just waiting for an open flame.

Tuesday, you toss about random words,
limericks that refuse to ignite, Haiku in a hideous
veil of smoky indifference, a parched pantoum waiting that spark.

And Wednesday morning you wait in a nervous tremor,
hands at the ready to strike, poised to provide
perfect alignment of your now random words,

waiting for that incendiary prompt to light your blaze within,
that internal fire that all poets possess to perpetrate their poetry.
Your bonfire of beauty rises in long tendrils of unbridled thought.

You give your fire the oxygen it needs to propagate,
the breath of passionate purveyance longing to fuel your pyre,
poetic words of a warm and beautiful soul left to crackle incessantly.

For every Wednesday you scurry to put out your new fires
that were allowed to simmer all week, only to implode into the conflagration
that others with your “sickness” clamor to read and comment upon.

The ground swell of these combustible imaginations
conspire to fill the world with the kindling to inflame the
responsive sparks that their poetry provides.

There’s no stopping a Poetic Pyromaniac’s passionate pyre!

No comments:

Post a Comment