Poems that Came Home

I feel confinement is not good
For my words that wish
To blurt themselves out
Of my tightly pursed lips.
The poems I have written
All my life
Resonated all along
Empty and numb
Like the tired strings of an old guitar.
Monotony and frustration
Plucked at my heartstrings.
An insufficient shower
Aroused the putrid smells that lay dormant
Sultry summer rain
Trickled from the perspiring clouds…

The gray light of dawn
Brings a cuckoo’s note along
Aeons blossom in fast motion
Love explodes from the center
Of the red, red rose
Hopeless Romanticism meekly peeps
Looking up for a pat
Like a little puppy dog.
Somewhere amid distant voices
Distant memories and tastes
A tingle arises
With pleading eyes and suppressed laughter.

Deep inside a spark glowered
Knowing its reunion with leaping flames
Is not far way.
Not far away
Words began to make distinct sense
Ambiguity annihilated
Dreams became giant tongues
Rolled out like red carpets

Somewhere into the jaws of oblivion
Eternity waits with watchful eyes
Not far away
Meaningless poems molted their obscurity
Stood meaningful with heaving pride…

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