POETRY CHALLENGE: FREE VERSE.
The days have turned
to weeks and months; they burn
against my fingertips
as maturing turns to aging. I’ve learned
that it’s not about the quips
of lyricism and tricks and tips,
it’s about not quitting
when your mind starts to trip.
The loser takes no prize.
I can empathize
with how hard it hurts to realize
the spark has died…
Or maybe not so harsh,
no, my muses hide and hush
behind the hustle bustle
of the daily shuffle,
suffocating, they’re buried and muffled,
away from me, they’re separated and muzzled.
If I find their key I can unlock
the bonds that bind my heart;
I can be free again!
Let loose my weary, weakened tongue
to the skies
and fly
among my beasts and god-sons.
And so I will the world,
I command this key of liberation
come! Let the cosmos swirl
within my grasp, let freedom
run like black river blood
from tip of mind
to end of pen,
and let loose this damned flood.
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