-- Birth of a Poem --

John Herlihy

Who can account for the birth of a poem?

Certainly not the likes of a fledgling poet.

Knows not the well from which he draws,

Terror awakens before the serpent’s jaws.

An idea of the heart taken in a single bite,

Nectar of a flower where butterflies alight.

A poet sits in the dark inspiration awaiting,

Sad amotions, unexpected joys, all baiting.

The poem not yet written, but already born,

Soul thoughts from a cave in the heart torn.

A wave of oceanic depths breaks on shore,

Its mysterious beauty will readers implore.

A poem with its imagery, stands undressed,

Sweet melodies with divine breath blessed.

Conveying a truth before being understood,

Wearing its meaning under a spirited hood.

Flowing as a river, making its journey blind,

Placed as a flower in the garden of the mind.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Wednesday 17 November 2021