The Awakening

At first there was but sorrow,

Questions about tomorrow.

Never to come, not likely –

Falling to uncertainty.

Second came the acceptance –

“All is going to be well.”

Fate, most likely is a chance,

To hear those melodious bell.

Yet longing is a problem,

As is with expectation.

Unquenchable it may seem,

Difficult situation.

Thus comes imagination,

Yearning continuation.

Soaring high, delving in depths,

Mostly unexplored yet felt.

Awakened; here – a brain child,

My story yet not really.

Just my thoughts going all wild –

Picturing what should have been.

A Flash of Inspiration

Inspiration comes to me in a flash,

Thus mostly, I grab a pen in a rush.

For fear of losing what seems to be rare,

A sort of precious gem beyond compare.

Carefully though, precise by the letter,

For the measures must come all together;

Even it’s not complicated numbers,

Even if it’s just words all scattered.

At times though, since I’m me I disregard,

Measures, “smeasure” I mix and bend backwards.

Otherwise I just set things free – let go;

Allowing all ideas build and flow.

For I see nothing wrong with free verses,

Or to thorns attached to pretty roses.

All there is – that flash of inspiration –

That pen rushing to its transformation.