Too often the things we want turn out to be more complicated, more confusing and even overwhelming than what we imagined. Don’t you love the way poetry can let us express so many thoughts when this happens.
The ideas can appear convoluted, hidden in twisted turns of the language for it is the beauty of the genre to allow the writer the freedom to do what he or she wishes with the chosen words. Likewise it gives freedom to the reader to take away what they wish based on their knowledge and experience. Reader power is gained because the meaning becomes as much theirs as that of the creator.
A small vibration builds
slowly, piercingly pinching
and penetrating like a summer insect
that at dusk must come out
to show the night as an
with bitingly bitter stinging sensations
to the sweetness of the sun filled days.
A constant running of close
together eruptions, erosions
and errors of nature which
display a natural process as an
the truisms handed down since the
beginning of time and human evolution.
A final cutting edge of sans pity
statements screaming sinfully silent
and showing only at the
almost merciless end
that the imperfect medium is
in contrast to
what you imagined
a long yearned for
and deeply desired creation.