Uninspired...ever so barren,
in times of withdrawal,
written words adopted a tone,
audible fluency to compliment
the questions thrown to shadows.
Echoes from small imagery
considered satire to define kindness
and I
used the enthusiasm of a sprightly child
to sculpture the passion of a woman he made me.
During a surrender, storm appeared larger
than the palms of the universe,
aqueous adventures unfolded to dry
over the back of a male dream,
around the throat
and the jaw of a flattering breeze,
guiding spirit
was lifted as a muse, engaged in meditation
of how to be a poet,
of how to create something selfless.
Nonetheless
its a plain pleasure to dance
with your own sense of worth,
to its music,
listening written words adopting a tone,
just to respond to questions, that you though
were born without an answer.
copyright, 2010. Tihana Novosel