A Simmering Drive

I am a warrior-poet,
waging war with words;
swinging syllables;
clauses clanging —
battling bad grammar,
or using it to my advantage.

I may be of small renoun,
but this style reverbs with me-ness;
real expressive my adjective,
fighting phrases with fantastic
flashes of inspiration —
a mark of metaphorical might.

Training the body,
subjected to stress;
training a mind
predicated on progress;
sharpening senses —
polishing perceptions!
Painting prose purple
with power to express!

I am a soldier
in a light brigade of lyrical legions,
a battalion of bardic bombardiers —
an infinite infantry
of ideas and illumination,
integration of sound and
pulsing heartbeat rhythm!

And out on this field
where the air shakes,
clearing the mist;
are objectives revealed,
or that classic mistake?
Our fates aren’t sealed —
we don’t always resist
when the sun wakes.

I wrote this yesterday, and hesitated to post because I wanted to polish it a bit more. However, when Mme. Ross posted a piece called I Am today, I decided to just publish it. Mme. Ross didn’t know I had this sitting in my draft folder, and until now I didn’t realized it was finished.

Do you ever get that feeling that you’re holding yourself back because you have unnaturally high expectations of yourself? What keeps you from just letting it fly? Isn’t that a more natural expression of who you are?


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