song III

[rimbaud]

There I was
waiting on the silence to break, but nothing.
The room was quiet,
The curtains still,
The soul - awake!

My body was shaking,
My eyes were wet,
My breath - hard
and then it quickened.

Waiting got me nowhere,
and silence mocked me.
Angry, I get up so I can hear better,
but nothing yet.

I became the freaking Hulk!
Mad at the world for being quiet,
And at my teachers, for being dead.

Adrenaline rushing through my body,
power through my veins!
I wanna jump, run, yell!
My whole being wants to live!

And then I got it,
I understood!
The reason the world was being quiet -
It was waiting for me to speak!

[Delta40]

you seem to capture a moment before life or action of some kind comes into being here. a microcosm.

Well done. It got me thinking of the word 'surge'

[blazeofglory]

You erupt volcanically and powerfully. You amalgamated ranges of feelings so beautifully that I see there both substance and variety in your poems. Of course poetry is somewhat different from prose in that in poetry ideas and expressions are often implicit and unpronounced adequately and you have provably written beautifully with this piece.