I was organizing some papers and I came across an old poem I wrote out a couple months ago and thought I would share. Its entitled “Ideas”.
Ideas hang like beads of silk,
Ready to explode, ready to break,
Delicate, intricate, unveiling signs,
that either grow, or fade to blank.
They delicately sway defying conformity,
oddly jealously, they catch ones eye,
Making a stand yet barely holding strength,
Will it fall? Will it stumble? Will it shy? Will it retreat?
Idea, O Idea! You glisten, you provoke!
Like a child you declare,
Like a madman you look,
You search to and fro
For a mind to consume,
Yet no one is looking,
Their hearts full of doom,
You groan, you squirm, unable to express,
Your voice is clammed shut,
Your eyes stray with disgust
Whose soul will hearken to the glare of idea?
Whose mind will meld? Whose ear will yield?
Ideas, oh yes, are all around us,
Yet we take not the time,
We choose not to look,
Instead we go on with eyes of black,
Unable to break open,