swampy ponderings

treading through a swampy pondering,

lost and sticking in those same old spots,

escaping the phantasms of yesterdays, and stumbling

over the possibilities, the mangroves shudder as i spiral further

inward, but then i remember a time, where words made a path

and the light of forging them together on to paper, calmed the beasts.

i grasped in the fog to the pix-elated dimension.

to find a voice unhidden, “well, then you should”,

now i write unhindered of the secret to escaping,

swampy pondering’s.

I like pie. Writing poetry for me is all done without editing or pre-thought. Enjoy the dribbles of my mind. :D

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