My Words                                                

J. Orr

Maybe it was just my foolish pride

telling me I had a

word

worthy of the hearing

Or maybe

the frustration of a lifetime build-up

of pent up words

and solitary dreams

Maybe just the dripping faucet curse

of never being heard

never being heard

Pictures and songs are falling like flies!

Unsung!

Like simple seeds on stainless steel they lie

Dormant

Two inches away from the warmth of earth

Unable to move themselves- only to wait.

and shiver.

Maybe it's just my furious blizzard of thoughts

Finally unleashed to wreak havoc on us all

I know they don't have the form you like

I know.

They do not march in ordered lines

There are no circles, no underlines

At random they splash and spill

Completely unobserving of your orderly will

Tumbling out like circus clowns

We know they have a meaning but

Then we laugh and cast them down.

Or  machine gun fire, Sprayed and badly spoken

They do not gavaunt-

but trip themselves out, gangley-

broken

borne not by sleek messengers with winged feet

but crippled little girls with brand new

legs                                                            

wobbling

joyfully for the first time,

into fields of flowers so wondrous! So fine!

Brooding  they gather themselves in fragile places

quite unmindful of social graces

No respecter of persons, these

Birthed by  hardship not ease

They  fling themselves from the nest

wanting of a place to rest

There.

In your heart

Innocent they are

yet unknowing of power, or throne

wanting only to be sat with

in the old overstuffed chairs

and to break the bread. There.

with You

In your home

Ones that needed to be born and were not-

Ones that came out

that should have been stopped!

Which ones were these?

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