Retreading the same creative subjects Rebedding headaches Pedalo Some discomfort Clung all over with a fungal dampness And moored with a heavy sleep-like coat Worthy of nothing Nothing worthy of note Pages
Consumed by rehearse I've lost the thirst to broadcast Cowardly in delay Relaying what's past ..... a Recurrent distress
I stand sudden : Done ! I derail the trolley-lot ...
Then I fit In a mirthquake I laugh like i am made of bellies 'The Bellycake', I'll call me.
With my serious anchorous state nulled I approach fresh work with good humour
There is power in the voice The words that are spoken ever so softly Finding meaning and purpose is conveyed through her poetry Her mind full of chaos she just begins writing Pages and pages start flowing, as the words just keep coming Her art becomes a confronting and meaningful piece Shared to others who need help finding connectedness and peace A talent she holds close to her heart Feeling greatful she has the ability to share life through all of her poetic art.
Creativity is grieved over. When it leaves, your nostalgia blossoms An old friend that you lost before its time You weep at its funeral Your tears burn your cheeks With desires of what could have been. Perhaps it died in a car accident A violent, fiery wreck of destruction Maybe it died in its sleep You never did get a chance to say goodbye Or you could have lost it in time Watched it wither away Like the memories you used to hold so dear. Crying yourself to sleep, you yearn for your creativity.
The beauty, or perhaps the horror of this death Lies in the fact that it could return. After bargaining with Death Death will return your creativity to you Like some undead zombie Or like the second coming of some benevolent angel. And you will welcome creativity with open arms You will hug it close, and promise that you will watch it closely. You will assure it that you won't let it slip through your grasp. You pick up that pen, stroke those keys And let your friend spill out all over the pages. But just as with people, the death of creativity is inevitable And before long, it will leave you bleeding yet again Only to return to you as though it never left.