Behind the scenes

There's that search for the image
The one word that encompasses
The whole picture I want to paint.
The simile that is just so. The right
Adjective, an adverb to tide over
The thought that ties up the story
My poem wants to convey. In the
End we need more. More words.
More thought. More time to draw
You in. Do you see it now? There's 
The moon, but no, it's just a sliver 
Less than the piece of cake you're 
Always refusing, but so far away, I 
Can't imagine how it got into my
Bedroom window, into my heart.
There's that search for the image.

Lost in the night

Held tightly in the cocoon of
A blanket, as fears envelop /
Develop into thoughts darker
Than the night. Where am I? 
You wonder. Am I lost in the 
Night? Would I know my way 
In the daytime? Is it only light 
I am missing to guide and to
Cajole me? Am I truly lost or
Only to myself so others can
Find me, strip off the cover of
The night and let me see where
I am in the daylight. Am I lost?

Whereto

Where does the poetry go
When it leaves us, departs
To parts unknown, perhaps 
Unknowable? May we also
Follow? Should we? Is an
Invitation required? Is it?
Don't I have an open invite
To drop by any time? Can't 
I find the lyric, the tempo,
The reason to rejoice at will?
Isn't inspiration my whim,
My whimsy and the rhythm
In my days, life as it comes
And goes. I can follow along
I can see the poetry. There,
Where I left it to sit, to stand
To rumble in the corners, to
Await a new day or an old night
Never quite gone. It's there.

Cloudy inspirations

We want so much from a sky 
Like this one, one that holds
And hides promise. Clouds are
Not cotton candy. After all, but
Far more ephemeral and longer
Lasting, spun from dreams and
Not from sugar, though dreams 
And hopes can also be sweet, all
Aspirations inspire us to reach
High and soar. Not unlike clouds
In a sky like this one, the one that
Hides and holds the promises of
Our dreams, not cotton candy but
Full of sugared desires and wants

Poetry

The lyrical soul is
Skipping its beats
Tonight. At a loss
As images wane in
Pedestrian forms,
It hopes; it aspires
But dreams elude
All inspiration. It is
Quieted by its lack
Of transcendence.

What we’ve seen

Observations, we've all made
Them, they're subtler than a
Whisper of disapproval or the
Mention of a disappointment.
Quiet thoughts, barely thought
Tucked away, secreted deep in
A dark corner of memory. You
Will know it as a fact. His mom
She was just like that, you will
Blurt it out, no malice, and no
Criticism, you resent neither
One of them for it's just how
They were, are in memory, and
In your observation. There's 
No whisper of discontent  on
Your mind, no disfavor to put
A pall over your thinking and
Hold you fast. And hard, in a
Strange place, booing ghosts.

Tidy up

I need someone to tidy my
House bring order in /out
Of the chaos. Tidy my mind
Clean out the messes that
Accumulate with time /in
Time /over time and under
Every cabinet and drawer