PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

As my day ends to some joyful tune of old,

And I sit at my desk, alone and left to my own,

I feel the vast compendium of what I was told,

Pressing down on my, at times, freelance zone.

Wondering if perchance they were always right,

And my method to my madness is best left,

To be read by a concientious few - poetic types,

Who do not wish that it should continue a test,

A test to what hope I have had pass through,

And what light that still illumes my charmed life,

For charmed I am at the merest thought that my,

Small words on some screen come to you,

And you are perhaps knowing before I learn,

Of who I could, in this throttle of a world, to turn'.



The bouyancy in my eyes at the sight of a note,

Delivered by some loose phone cable,

By some distant and unseen messenger who chose,

To call me  wise and strong and able.

Does lift my ears to almost hear myself as worthy,

To the battles I set out to master but untimely,

Events do continue by my focal ellipse earthy,

Does lose focus and shift to a little less primary.

But the measure of the happiness felt,

Is only matched by the warmth and keeping,

In my heart on the opening and receiving,

Of the though machine written and dealt,

That falls like mana from the skies, to my eyes,

Each time does tend me, to comfort and surprise.



It is the word that calls to a person's being,

That perhaps there is more in life than met,

For I can only tell with exalted feeling,

That yours be touched by how is said,

In a chandelier of shining, high and bright,

And the way be to the delivery of soul,

My self, for what, does lift in height,

And the carry-on regardless of what we've known.

Perhaps I did know when you first wrote,

That you are something more than my eye beholds,

For the fish that together move in shoals,

Need no orders or directions or physical rope.

And I believe I have  been found my lass,

By the needle in the world's haystack.



(C)Richard.H.Elliott 2003.