A POET'S BRAIN

If I could cross the silence,
Of my rhythm in my rhymes.
Then maybe I could Extrapolite,
The meaning of each line.

Word's come about me,
Like snowflakes in the rain.
Some are quite exquisite,
While others melt away.

Tantalising and teasing,
Flowing through my mind.
Then they start to drift away,
Dementia forgets each and every line.

Will I ever begin again? Will I find the flow,
When my word's fall apart; When it's time to go.
Or will I discover what I thought long ago,
There's a poet's brain within my poet's heart.



Poetry by Alan J Ripley The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 47 times
Written on 2025-05-30 at 04:30

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