Poetry: Not Such a Little Thing


Just as a butterfly flutters through the air,
So do the words that dance in my head.
With slight sigh on my tongue they snare,
Waiting for that moment they might be read.

Outward they burst without a moment to loose!
And as I hurry to scribble them down,
They surround me, wrapping tighter and tighter around my head like a noose.
Relief is short-lived as paper is found...

My, how the words bounce with excitement and glee;
They cover the paper, wishful and smart.
Sweeping from my hand as they glide from me.
Every heart-racing word, seeping straight from my heart.

Then the words, with gnashing S’s and T’s,
Bite hard at the paper, A’s and K’s.  
From my pencil they form, curving M’s and B’s!
Every heartbreaking emotion, slapped down with more to say.

The words keep flowing, sweeter this time,
Beautiful, elegant, lengthy and prose.
From my pencil they form, unique with rhyme,
Every heartwarming emotion, lay down and complete in eight equal rows.

All of the words: heartening, angry, and cheery,
All pour from my soul, giving it respite.
No longer am I bottled up or weary;
A sigh; a release from an emotional height.

Finally after the pencil is worn down, the paper used up,
And the mind is calm and stress free,
I can stand, smile, and take a sip from my cup,
And thank God for a little thing called Poetry!


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