Muse
is best expressed
through hieroglyphics
I've learned.
Still coming to terms, though,
with the efficacy
of a stanza,
as opposed to say,
just flattening it all out
through jabber.
Pressing it down,
talking it to death
just to quench
the desire
to put out the fire
of expression.
To get out what's wedged
between soul and tongue.
I would imagine
no poem is worth
the havoc it takes
to create.
Yet we grate,
grind,
just to make
rhyme,
and find ourselves
in a different light
or a different angle of shade
at least.
It's all the same,
they're just webs of words
spun differently
to appear new.
To entangle you
in a different patch
or nook,
and catch a varied reaction
or two
or three
for a "Tee hee! I made you look."