Wednesday, 19 June 2013

Raging Restlessness, Continual Consternation,

My mind is a swirling,
Ideas are whirling,
My brain is unfurling,
Consciousness curling,
Throwing and hurling,
Can I stop what I’m doing?
Slow down the pursuing,
Concentrate and breath,
Do not self-deceive,
Control the belief,
It may give some relief,
But the mind will not stop,
It’s so tired it will drop,
Oh sleep would be nice,
Just once perhaps twice,
Instead I continue,
My body a sinew,
If only it would end,
It might feel heaven sent,
I hope this will work,
Now its not a joke,
Before I erupt,
I am really stumped!

I am not sure if you could call what I write poetry.  It is a blast from my mind, straight onto the page; I do not really think about it, it just happens.  I wonder, do professional poets take an age to write their poetry, do they sit and ponder every word, I presume some do.  This is why I do not classify my verse as poetry; it is just lines of thought.

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