Helpless

Rochelle Singer

An idea flickers

A rhythm attaches itself

A poem is born.

 

It can sprout

Like a weed

In a wildflower garden.

With vibrant words,

Seeded with doubt,

Its beauty stems from its soul.

 

It can struggle

Like a premature baby

For existence.

Not fully formed

It lingers

Until ready to be set free.

 

Some poems can be

Gift wrapped

But empty.

Others can be

Sparse

But powerful.

 

Every first word of

Every poem

Teeters on a line.

Every poet

Walks a tightrope

Helpess not to.

  • Author: Rochelle (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 10th, 2021 01:18
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 18
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Comments +

Comments4

  • dusk arising

    Wot? no safety net LOL.

    Let MPS be your safety net... it certainly is mine.

  • Goldfinch60

    So very true Rochelle, words can take us to so many differing places.

    Andy

  • Garth Rakumakoe

    The spirit and art of writing is so beautifully depicted here. I like this poem.

    • Rochelle Singer

      Thx. Your reply tells me that my poem succeeded in saying what I had intended.

      • Garth Rakumakoe

        It definitely did! 🙂

      • spilleronsheet

        So we’ll defined the the realist IRS surrounding poetry



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