My thoughts are woven in words of wonder;
They flash and dance in lively lightning leaps.
Sometimes they burst forth — full-cloaked in thunder,
Or rumble, distant — as a rain cloud weeps.
Furious downpours spawned in crowded mind,
Flood the fingers and flash the fertile page;
And yet, at times, the darkness leaves me blind,
My phrases cast aloft in fear or rage.
The surging lightning leaps from cloud to cloud,
As mind-storms bathe the sky in anxious wrath;
Crashing on passion's anvil — long and loud,
And far below, the writer seeks his path.
His task is to pace the storm, full throttle,
And to capture lightning in a bottle.
Mick McKellar
July 2016
What is it like to write poetry? Sometimes, it is a wild ride!
Mick
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