Feeling a need...

I feel a poem coming on, although it could be just incipient indigestion, and I have already posted a couple today so I can come quietly to the world of blog and write whatever the spirit brings me.

Still Sunday but deep now into night. A still and humid night that broods a little. The frogs are peeping intermittently instead of full chorus and the neighbours conversations occasionally sound as if they are with me in the room.


Where do the words come from?
Why do they jostle in my head,
my heart and beg for egress?
They batter on the inside
of my mouth, stamp across my tongue
demanding to get out and flaunt
themselves, baring me, stripping me
to naked flesh, down to the bone
and blood of me at times
my fingers itch and ache
and need to write them down
the stories of unconsciousness
I give birth to every day
beginning, middle, end,
each moment poised to spill
into the bowl of life
a drop of feeling
a tear, a silent plea
that wants a voice
and crawls along my veins
to find it. Where are they born?
In me or through me?
The pathways in my head
are empty most times
echo with the traces of
a memory, a thought
and not much else
I sit and watch
and label judgment
anger fear delight
the trains that hurry
through the stations
life has carved in me.
Then come the words.
A clutter of hope
and deprivation dancing
side by side with darkest
passion lightest fear
all chanting a harmony
that unreleased might
drive me mad.
I write because I must
I love to feel the magic
stretch and swell
and ride me
to completion
to exhaustion
to the next
forever verse.