Freeing the Rumination

Pen to paper, thoughts start to mound;

I'm paralyzed in their screaming sound.

They circle, again, circle around

and push me deeper until I'm drowned.

 

I listen to their ceaseless pound

and breathe until the source is found,

close my eyes: accept, surround.

A string of thought unwinds, unbound. 

 

Open eyes, exhale, and frown,

trying to find some starting ground.

Some peasant knight appears, is crowned.

Exhausted, I write it down.

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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