Tuesday, April 21, 2009


How does it feel to write a poem? I am not certain that "write" is the operative word. I try to capture the essence of images that often burst past my inner eye in an eternal instant -- the images are always there, but my capacity to focus on just one is so limited, so ephemeral, it can be agony to grasp it long enough to describe what I see and feel and hear. The ideas are so fluid and their expression is so dynamic, that capturing them is akin to juggling Jello.

Occasionally, I can capture a moment, an idea, an image and the rush is incredible. The images wash over me and trigger thoughts that soar on luminous wings, plummet to depths unimaginable, or instantaneously illuminate the darkest corners of my mind and my soul. When my spirit takes flight, I can only hang on for the ride and try to take notes. Creating, observing, describing, painting what I see, feel, and hear with words...is addicting beyond belief...a magnificent addiction!



Leap from the Earth, oh pellucid rapture!
Beyond the sky, past gravity's capture,
A poet's thoughts fly on mystical wings.
Ancient Muse plays my heart's translucent strings:
Seeking my soul's pure light to unfetter,
Singing my spiritual love letter,
Illuminating with shimmering hue,
Teaching the sun of my soul to shine through.
Column of sun-glory spikes through the sky -
White hot as lightning and makes the clouds cry,
Pushing the shadows and darkness away,
Pulsing with powerful, true light of day.
Music that shatters my mind's iron bars,
Poetry transports my soul to the stars.

Mick McKellar
April 2009

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