Words

Each golden sunrise ignites in me a new

tidal wave of words.  Tossing and turning

inside my head like a small wooden ship

on a torrid sea.

Words, that I must corral like so many

wild stallions; pawing and snorting,

kicking down fences, demanding their

release from the confines of my mind. 

Words, that I must harness like blinding

bolts of lightning, exploding across the horizon,

from the black and purple clouds that lumber

across my brain.

The trick though, is to employ but not stifle, the

power of words. Words can be quickly penned

onto the writer’s page, long enough to convey

a thought, offer a position, or display an emotion, only

to have them rampage off in a blusterous exhibition 

of grandeur, leaving behind the terrifying promise 

of the next harrowing confrontation. 

I must rest and prepare. 

--Ken Ferguson--

Artista di Parole