I cherish my madness
Nurture it gently
Pour more oil
So that the flames can grow
I cater to its wishes
Let havoc wreck
And chaos endure
I need it
I feed it
For my imagination’s sake
My creativity’s at stake
Without the madness
I’m nothing
So the thoughts they jump
And bump and bruise
And go from there
To there
And there
And back again
Until order comes from chaos
And poetry from madness
And the calm after the storm
Spurs me on and on

Across the road
A J-K girl,
Skipped and laughed
On her way to school.
She was strapped
To a big back-pack,
Looking like
A pink pack mule.
Behind her strove
Her drover,
Directing her to quarry
All the stones of learning.

By three o'clock
My minature mule,
A little slower
Trudged from school.
The pack was filled
With rules and tools.
She had panned
The ores of knowledge;
She'll assay them
In days to follow.

Each day my mule
Will turn the grindstone,
Crunching numbers,
Sifting fine poems.
She's mining all the hidden gems
To fill her back-pack
Once again.