-- I Feel a Poem Coming On --

by John Herlihy

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Alone, at twilight, as the sky deeply darkens,

On random trails, darkness the night harkens.

A spark initiates a fire, a bud opens as a rose,

An idea takes shape, from where, who knows.

My thoughts take on the varied hues of emotion,

Driven in part by intellect, imagination, devotion.

The colors of the rainbow  poetic words to inspire,

The mind seeking clarity, the heart smoldering fire.

My heart flutters, the flickering flame of a candle lit,

In solitude and silence of my living room I quietly sit.

Whispers, images, a range of emotions fill my mind,

Strangers as friends, friends as strangers, in life unkind.

How wondrous the unique feeling of a poem coming on,

In the shade of a stately tree, a grassy knoll to rest upon.

A whispering wind telling secrets to the nodding leaves,

The verses touch my heart as a caress, a summer breeze.

Some people work in offices, other people farm the land,

Military soldiers give orders, I follow the Muse’s command.

I confess to being a poet, to the urge of writing prone,

As the words take shape on the page, I am no longer alone.

Images of beauty drawn from ink of a feathered quill,

To enter the ears of readers their eager hearts to still.

Universal mysteries as budding blossoms that unfold,

Deep human sentiments in the palm of my hand to hold.

In the dead of night, the stalking panther on the prowl,

In the white of winter breath, a pack of wolves howl.

Through the raging storm, a ray of light my heart seeks,

Then the clock strikes midnight, as my pen gently weeps.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Monday 18 December 2023