To Make A Poem
Location
A moment of peace when only our thoughts become our speech
Our minds rewind as waves shower back against the sea,
The passage in time with no utter sound or words that feel bleak,
A patient moment when are eyes widen and our hearts leak,
Stillness is once yearned for as a song unheard for weeks,
The iambic pentameter fills are veins with no left remains,
A breeze sent us of the air as a presence with a holy glare,
Still sure and fair, it is evening no room to share,
With moments that past and await a morning stare,
The words that rips and tears our bodies away with fear.
Harmony is present but still in pursuit of its only gear,
Smiles and laughter is timeless, but our thoughts only remind us―
Of a memory changed but with speech untamed in vulgar ways,
How I wish it would be as a song that is easily forgotten,
The accordance of one’s mind reversed in ceaseless time,
I traveled the same road with no breath and had rhymes left to hide.
The presentation of one’s motivation comes with the thief of expectation,
Who chokes, but cloaks as a hourglass that runs with no permission to ask.
Better taken as a joke, for to make a line by line stanza one needs no answer,
nor quote, or a maestro to fill the blank seconds of a time that regress,
The clash of organ tunes, mashed with pipettes comes through process
And single blues, more remaining than tragic fuse alluding with no
Nonsense, Caution we wait for those that remind us, with the inspiration
That guides us, precious melodies and songs that are timeless―
What is more illuminating than a clock or the sun which will blind us,
To be free from all bondage, no opportunity left without conscious,
I am ready and no more time wasted as a man unready dying steadily
As my pen beckons for the paper to write my next medley;
an appetizer to feed the course of my mind as my thoughts wane heavy.
This is it, finally I am ready, to make a poem, I await for my finished song.