Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

generally I seem to know
even before I begin, this
will be the last poem of the night

so the pressure is on,
don't want to crank out a dud
you never know this may be the last poem ever

so I try to gather my self, weave
my thoughts into a brilliant afghan
to show the world the importance of color

I do see the hollow yarn
in all its duality, I watch my arthritic fingers
wrinkle before my eyes

this blanket has taken a lifetime
every nuance is woven into a tale
and in the end the moral is creative and warm

I leave you now
pull the textiles up to my nose
inhale the years like pure cocaine

I get a rush as the decades swirl
a windswept dervish wrapped in an autobiographical shawl,
once again, I am high

pull the textiles up to my nose
inhale the years like pure cocaine

I get a rush as the decades swirl

bravo!

thank you judih, appreciate it....

* *

ahhhhhhhh that poetic high.....a rush like no other

A poem for me walked up in a late afternoon as the baby slept
it was this poem of yours , yes I said fellow well met ,I agree with Judith..I am thinking life gathers love.it keeps.

no duds were cranked out here.

lovely write- quite intimate