#inspiration – Tamara, really

Legacy

What purpose gives you 
The fulfillment of a heart
Yearning to do well, and
Leave a legacy worthy of
A purposeful heart? Does
It arise from the passage
Of time past, passing year
And year upon decade, as
If being duely relentless is
Its whole purpose, as if it
Can fill the heart with a
Direction, with purpose

Simply put

The stranger and less familiar
The greater the pull. Unusual
Words want me to use them,
To sprinkle them over the top
Like so much sweet garnish
Over common expressions,
Expanding meanings from the
Ordinary, trivial. Meandering 
Far from what you think you're 
Saying to a novel thought on
A different trajectory. You've 
Built a tree of ideas, branches
Alive with the unexpected, the
Consequences of imaginative
Thinking opens adjacent ideas.
Strange and unfamiliar words.
Transform an idiom, so it's ass
Over teakettle with excitement.
Simply put, give it a new verve.

When we've run out of words
Or words cease to be enough
What will we do? How will we
Say I care, I love, you matter?
Where will our hearts go when
The words aren't there? They
Will run down our hands and
Drip out from our fingertips

Summer

I came for summer
And stayed for fall
Autumn leaves fell
I was still here and
Now it was getting
Cold. The chill did
Not deter. I waited
It out. Spring was
'Round every corner.
I stayed for summer.

Two bridges

Convergence at a distance confuses 
The mind's eye, maybe even the eye
Plain and simple, although there is
Nothing simple [or plain] about it,
The eye is complex and complicated.
The bridges converging to the north
Merge and blend running at parallel 
Tracks and turns, the shapes and the
Angles unique, distinctly different, 
Each going its own way, whichever 
Road it follows in a swoop or a semi
Circle, straight or narrow, there's a
Twist too, but you are too far away
And the converging roads confuse

Name drops

Thoreau. Trudeau. Waldo.
Wondering where are you?
Trudeau. The funny one. Not
The other one. Theroux. Not
Henry David. The other one.
Ralph Waldo can come with.
Emerson is a  decent radio, is
An off-brand, aren't we all?
Where in the world, are y'all?

Words, mere words

I will write the lyrics
To your melody, your
Song will become ours,
Your composition lifts
My words. We create a
Harmony, together, it's 
Words and music when
You add the music and
I offer words. Now it can 
Be sung. It has a voice. I
Will write the lyrics. You
Will turn it into the song

Just musing

Inspiration? Is it overrated
Or just underutilized? Why
Must I search to be inspired? 
It's all so much harder than
It would be if I were visited 
By my own personal muse.
He could drop in without
Fanfare and unannounced 
To give my work a goose in
The right direction. Every
Day and any time, I would
Be urged to create. Oh, and
Yes, all my writing would be
Beautiful and beastly. It all
Would be just so inspired!