My poetry...
is like a rushing flood...that I..
just cannot stop
I don't know where it's coming from so I don't think I'm going to ask it to
Because it's like this...
turbulent and wonderful
....endless... spinning top.

It just pours out...
just like the hardest rain
And...sometimes...
it can be...
quite...
painful.. even...
Like I must have hit a vein ...
or something...
and.... it must have...
been a very deep one.

I must have raised it ..
from it's tulluric bed
And that vein... you know...
well,
it seems... like it's...
DEMANDING to be bled.

And..I think...
I'll try to take a sip....
to have a little drink of that water
and...
I think it will have a lot to teach me
this thing.

So..if I can take a moment
to even catch a breath of air...
While waiting for the next big wave
that is..
Then I will...
So I can share...this thing...
that is ever flowing..
from somewhere...unknown
.. right here, right now..
with you.

Whatever this thing is...
that is flooding from my lips
And not so much from my aging fingertips...
as I struggle to write this fast enough
because this deluge would soak the paper anyway...
and I think
the ink would just run.

I've been thinking about so many things
.. that I have not thought about in years
including many ...
real and... long but not quite forgotten
fears ..
but it's alright
because everyone and everything is beautiful... in the just...
the right light..too..
and well...I've tapped into things...
that I just didn't even realize were there...
or even...
possible.

It's a very beautiful thing
when you write a certain poem
Like an enchanting and haunting sound
I even hear it now...
and ... I am sounding...measuring the waters depth...
and dowsing ....if I need to.

This thing,
my poetry...your poetry... Our Poetry.

And..it kind of rings, in echoes through your mind
and you know...
that it's going to touch other people somehow
just something that you feel
from deep within.

That place...I'm talkin' 'bout..well it's
much deeper
than the surface
of our skin...
I just can't tell you- exactly...
where it is of course...
but I think if you look,
maybe check it like a pulse
maybe...then,
I believe
that you will find it too, keep looking...
don't give up.

And well..this unknown vein
it is beckoning
.... to bleed first...
and then the water comes
....then...finally the words...
I am literally gushing this here...
It demands this thing...
it's like...I think...
it must be heard.

Seems I can't....quite
get every word down
on my first attempt...
maybe the next time around
but it's...not... upset with me at all,
and ..I think it says try again
.... my Cherie.

So to me...it's like a song
and when it is written...
and it is finally  perfect
and you hear it....
for the very first time
It's like music to your ears
literally... and figuratively
And....
it doesn't have to rhyme...
you'll know it...
when your done.

Maybe because you hear that
lyrical sound in your head
it just keeps on coming....
like it's risen from the dead...from a place
some...
deep and earthly bed
And right now...
I'm just repeating what it said.

You know....it keeps me up at night
till the poem is just right..
..and..
sometimes I just can't sleep
and yes I even weep....
and when I do...eventually rest...
then I see it in my dreams,
this thing
so I don't get any time alone
these days
and well..
the company ...
is really pretty good.

That sound...it just doesn't stop coming
I can hear that sound...
everywhere...
like my Native American ancestors are drumming..
it calls me home.

You hear it in the other poetry
and so your poetry
is a Continuing Story
of their poetry and yours
is to their stories,
and you hear it in every other song
and in all conversations with people and things
A sound ..like the mellow, dark sound of a violin
Or maybe like the distant flapping my Guardian Angels wings...
It has my attention
and I am listening...
contentedly.

It halts my mind...and will not let me just pass by....
without..
at least..
saying hello.

This thing...this gift of poetry
is a blessing not a curse
I've known a lot of other things that
... could be...have been and are
a lot...
worse
So..for me
at least right now
it doesn't have to be well rehearsed
and you can always come back to visit it,
to see if it needs anything...
you know...like an old and lovely...very special...
and familiar friend.

And if someone thinks my poem
is...say...stunning,
then I am truly in awe -
of something that I don't even know where it came from
could touch somebody so deeply...
from a sound that just keeps on weeping my tears .... of beauty and truth,
I am grateful.

These things...this dialogue...
it could even be...
quite profound
So...I think....
that I'll just keep listening
to that distant sound,
That drum, the wings, all things ...
the violin strings...
So I can...and because I must
trust ...and ..
share...
this all
with you
right here
right now...
.....always....
& forever.

And perhaps, we can
together....
leave a legacy
to my family
To your family
and to all others,
and to future Generations of a like-minded people
For the positive growth of all humankind
Poetry in everything
can...
remind us.

This gift...might hopefully inspire others
in some way
to perhaps do certain things differently each day...
of our lives...
or to write poetry even...
to pay it forward
or just to heal...this poetry
this ...to me...is how we express
our...feelings.

  There are so many things to learn from poetry and songs
and conversations
like this one I'm having with myself
right here
right now too..

I wouldn't want to live life
any other way now...
because I've discovered
my
"Poetic License"...
to disclose ...
my thoughts ..
my poetic experience
to you.  

May peace be with everyone.-
All rights reserved * 2016 © Cherie Nolan