Fay Slimm.

Fervour.

 

 

Fervour.

 

Whence cometh this sudden burst ?


Strong the feeling of need to unearth quill
and clutter blank canvas.


Why falleth such daze of commitment ?


This utter compel to verse comprehension
with ink and pen,
is\'t call of the Muse that so draws ?


Or perhaps a deep awe taketh poetic minds
to other than normal.
Wouldst mine own experience of versing
beyondness inspire new ideas ?

Wonder\'s strict urge to word the unwordable
is it so rare ?

To set down the force of emotional fire in neat
order proves the vocation of serious scribing.
A flow of lined fervour cometh alive and eateth
the will despite dirth of time.
Yet what behest dost survive felt pressure when
lettered addiction graspeth its hold ?
\'Tis more than mere ring in the nose set
the ink-bitten soul to capture by mark Heaven\'s
intelligence or the pits of darkest hell.


If written expression be older than old
and every sure pen-stroke lead viewing hearts
to read on, all praise to the bard.


Long-licked bones maketh the shape of a poem.