This Poem was Submitted By: Michael A. Wells On Date: 2003-02-02 11:14:11 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Night Writing

Wearily my soul twists and turns My tired brain pressures me within... Produce! I yawn I rub my eyes Eyes that have transfers of black blotted words  Etched in their retinas. Like a Rorschach what I see  Others may not. Aware of this I dig deeper into my vault Of words, Expressions, Searching for yet another meaning To transform what I am saying For yet another to recognize. Surely I must be near... A burst of energy I feel Rising from within as my fingers take flight. Words dance across the page,  Faster than the speed of my mind The rhythm soothing to the soul, I relax in oneness with my work. Alone to the rest And undisturbed, Till I faintly feel a cat brush my pant leg As if to gently kiss me back to reality. I notice myself breathe For the first time in hours. Thoughts evaporate As though blood rushing from the head of a child Doing handstands. Weak of thought and body I close up shop for the night No more to give Creative juices empty. I sleep till another night doth call.

Copyright © February 2003 Michael A. Wells


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