In the wet cistern of mind so many words
Wobble and bobble while waiting to be
Poured out into overflowing eye-cups
And earing-saucers to be tasted and
Supped as flowing awareness into
Thirsty throats seeking to hydrate
Dry spirits into motivated souls:-
In an in depth likewise comparative analysis
Impregnated words in the womb of mind
Must also undergo poetic development
And the penning laboring pains before
The breaking flow of that sweet birth
That enables the mother of mind
And self to echo ”It’s a poem!”:-
P.S.: And as it is in all of life
There will be miscarriages
But life has always managed
To ever be engaged in birthing
And so will be the womb of mind:-