Unlocked Scribbles
Poetry by The Irrational Sage
I’m a bit of a recluse.
A hermit.
I like people.
But want to go back to my den.
The only time I’m understood…
Is alone with my pen.
Mind racing so fast
Lightning strikes in waves of thought
Burns my spine and tickles my throat
Stars come down and touch my nose
Feathers dance around my ghostly moat
Dirt slithers into my socks
Longlegs spider comes and knocks
Veiled messages unclothed and bent
And I just sit here with my pen.
Knuckles swell, anticipation grins
Hand cramps are cursive medicine
The well never ends
The void never fills
The waiting floods
The dam instills
Spells that sit upon the tongue
Waiting for the longings sun
And moonlit dreams bring fiery tones
Write them down then burn them home
Ashes rise then come crashing down
Freedom floats inside the helm..inside our veins
Blood moves us through the pain
Words carry it all away
And I sit inside the cave.
While the world decays.
Turning into golden dust.
Sprouting up through fingertips.
And the electricity gives life.
Melts away all the strife.
And the jolt wears thin
Nerves wriggle with new perception
Of misunderstandings
But in the disquiet, stillness looms
And In the stillness lives home
Misunderstood, but known
On my own.
In the airways of time.
In the words that rhyme.
In the melody that chimes…
Swooshing letters
Typed out notes
Thoughts into reality
Tales into hope
The cosmic joke
The silence unspoken
The pages unopened
Life that can’t be stolen.
Scribbled into fantasy
Floating in fancy
Dancing with two left feet
Still moving
unseen
The lamplight blinks
Then fizzles
But I’m still breathing
Even if I have to write
By moonlight
Even if the words
Don’t come out right
Even if the pen
Runs out of ink
Even if there is no paper
No screen to make shapes
No lead to push onto a fallen leaf
No stick to etch into the earth
No knife to carve out self worth
Nothing to do but give birth
In words…
Unlocking Scribbles…
Untangling Nerves.
~
With Love and Language and Languishing…
Angela
Holy 🤯 -- this part:
"No knife to carve out self worth
Nothing to do but give birth
In words…
Unlocking Scribbles…
Untangling Nerves."
The whole poem was beautiful and extremely relatable. That part right there... is a straight prescription for those of us in this strange bottleneck wormhole. Thank you. ❤️ PoetryRx over here.
(My compliments to the chef! Plenty of sage, just the right thyme. Coulda' swore 'twas Minerva's owl dining in the dark. Oh...splendid repast.) Angela, it was so nice to hear your voice in recitative! It was the icing on the dessert for sure, and also the melody; the word sounds themselves--harmony. Beautiful meter and free flowing, almost fugue-like...thought I heard a grace note or two (I used to be a drummer long time back). Your thoughts and ideas? Dynamics and entree, hands down. The first 5 lines set the tone, and then you took us on a stream-of consciousness ride, exposing the internal wrestling match that every poet can't help but engage--and in this case, it appears (unless I'm mistaken) as if you won. Or was it a draw? Either way, que bonita! Double hearts and double thumbs up. (do you write any haikus?)