Abundance (a poem)
A poem is not found
in an abundance of words.
Nor is it unnecessarily complex.
Poetry is found in the heart
and in the connection it makes.
A poem is not found
in an abundance of words.
Nor is it unnecessarily complex.
Poetry is found in the heart
and in the connection it makes.
The clarity I seek is regarding how to remain calm
amidst the storms swirling round about me,
how to be of help and live compassionately
towards those in most dire need,
those who may not appreciate or understand
the choices I make each day.
(1,108 words)
The dream lost,
unraveled, unwritten,
to aether went,
in a moment forgotten.
Eternal the cost.
The poet’s palette,
an ocean of words.
She covers the canvas,
with notions absurd.
Semantic reverie
and grammatical conundrums
collide within the mind.
Words laid thick,
drip from canvas
to floor below.
Why do we employ pen and paper
or, having been given words,
dutifully put them to rhyme?
Why do we apply oil to canvas,
or form a masterpiece
with not but sound?
Some poems rage through me
like a flame across a matchhead.
While others must be plucked,
word by excruciating word,
from my flesh.
Some poems seem to flow out,
while others take their time.
A collection of thoughts and feelings,
that don’t always have to rhyme
Sometimes they’re full of depth,
and others skim the surface.
Exposing feelings that are raw,
expressed with simple grace.
I woke up around three o’clock in the morning, again.
This time it was with the realization that I,
or at least the characters in my stories,
live in the past.
(393 words)
Awakened again,
unable to sleep,
for the stirrings below
of leviathans deep.
© 2009-2026 E.L. Redwine