CROWDED MIND
Sometimes there are ideas lined up all tidy in my mind,
All waiting quite patiently for me enough time to find
To place onto pure white paper, each poem or story tell,
My fingers work hard and everything works out well.

At others times the thoughts are a big jumbled mess,
But if I concentrate hard, things sort out, more or less,
And slowly each poem finds out were it ought to be,
The ideas are impatient, all at once want to be set free.

Then sometimes there is one sweet thought that flows
Like a great river of kindness, and to me joy bestows,
It fills my very being, like living what I have to write,
And words come and cannot cease, it fills me with light.

But this morning, the ideas are so very slow in coming,
Just a barren desert, for the sweet rain of inspiration longing,
So that the desert may blossom and the river flow free once more,
Come mind of mine and open once again the imagination door.

Wait! Here comes a thought, a different idea about spring!
A poem about the joy that comes to me when I want to sing!
The dawn of a new day! The death and resurrection of a King!
Now many ideas are racing again for joy to me and others bring.

M Ann Margetson © April 17, 2001

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