My head feels dull.
Not even “comfortably numb”.
No mood for rhyme
Yet must cast my soul
Back through time.
No.
No more rhyme.
Just cast my mind back.
Seek that spark.
Call out my Muse.
Be inspired.
Excited.
Yes.
Excitement shines
Like a billion suns.
The merest touch
Explodes
My every nerve.
Magical mysteries
Unveil themselves.
Brilliant, fluttering butterflies
Flash and flicker
Those rainbow colours and more.
Deep inspiration.
Adrenaline rush.
Electrical discharge.
Cascading sweat.
Thunder-drummed tornadoes.
Lightning storms.
Rose tinged dawns,
And silver-ghosted Moons.
Inspirational volcanoes
Of Muse-blown delight.
That’s how it was,
To be in Love.
Jan 22, 2011
Jan 22, 2011 at 4:34 AM UTC
My head feels dull.
Not even “comfortably numb”.
No mood for rhyme
Yet must cast my soul
Back through time.
No.
No more rhyme.
Just cast my mind back.
Seek that spark.
Call out my Muse.
Be inspired.
Excited.
Yes.
Excitement shines
Like a billion suns.
The merest touch
Explodes
My every nerve.
Magical mysteries
Unveil themselves.
Brilliant, fluttering butterflies
Flash and flicker
Those rainbow colours and more.
Deep inspiration.
Adrenaline rush.
Electrical discharge.
Cascading sweat.
Thunder-drummed tornadoes.
Lightning storms.
Rose tinged dawns,
And silver-ghosted Moons.
Inspirational volcanoes
Of Muse-blown delight.
That’s how it was,
To be in Love.
(C) Paul Butters 2010. An attempt to show the "magic" (James Reeves) of poetry.
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