Poets' Trance...
Writing this way,
The mind slides underneath,
Lays down and rests,
Sunlimates to the verbiage,
Subconscious connections,
Endless probabilities spin,
A quantum word bin whirls,
A tornado of spirit winds,
The vortex at the center of everything,
Words fall out,
Land in flutters and thumps,
All about you,
And ideas grow like leaves and branches,
Tying back to the trunk of reality.
A poet lies under the tree on an Autumn afternoon,
Absorbed in the fall and turn and flutters and landings,
But the good ones,
They see the possibility of pretty leaf piles,
Arrange the fallen words just so,
And stories or new realities guard the seeds of new branches awaiting the future.
AquarianM
By Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/26/2025
Regards,
Dan Stafford
Dan Stafford