Whole Words – Poetry

Whole Words

By J. A. Weymouth

There is a lonely man who ponders still

That crazy hoax that is beyond, near all

Of contemplation and sour thrill

The experience of many: the advanced scrawl.

 

The energy draws back in uneasy steps

Trailing inwards and coiling your insides

Quickening with horrid, trepid missteps

The look received fools and divides.

 

It is the poet who sees those naked eyes

Wandering over many matching reflections

Their quiet tastes of the idea standing by

Of all that fails those contemplative questions.

 

Who is the poet? Is that the man or the deer?

That doe-eyed look of words that do come forth

Sprung up beneath or beyond that higher seer

Come from unwavering lengths of tender thought.

 

It is like this equivalence, this treasured creativity

That is beyond all of me and my soul

These words are not mine, simply pure proclivity

From an un-tranquil mind in need to become whole.

22 thoughts on “Whole Words – Poetry

  1. Lovely. I especially like the third stanza – you really capture something there about poetic vision and expression. The contrast between the poet and where his gaze goes is wonderful, contemplative.

  2. There’s some great stuff here. I really enjoyed the short story. Your prose builds suspense beautifully. And your latest poem about a poet rings true, which is a double accomplishment, cause often poets writing poems about poetry is insufferable, almost as insufferable as a poet writing another poet about their poem about poetry, but I think you’ve pulled it off with aplomb.

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