Sometimes I read my own poetry
with fascinated abandon and wonder.
From whence come these word islands
and thought clouds so winsomely formed?
In fact, where do phrases originate like “winsomely formed”?
Why do these expressions spring so easily?
Yet I write.
The free flow of words,
passionate streams of conscious energy and expression
arise and flow on screen like a steady river current.
Other than the smiling faces of my children,
never have I known such contentment.
Gooey love poems,
naughty dark fantasies,
humorous renderings which may only amuse me …
WORDS MAKE ME HAPPY!
Art work: “Girl Styling Her Hair” by Pierre August Renoir, one of my favorite impressionist artists.