It's Sunday night
and again, like other times before,
a poem seems to be echoing
through my mind
before even its been formed.
It's just a hint of a poem
wanting to come forth -
to be birthed as it where.
The words nag and repeat
over and over in my mind
and I keep thinking,
"I'll work on this later"
but
the poem keeps nagging
and repeating
and shaping itself
and in the mind mind.
I knoiw it isn't fully formed
yet
the poem isn't ready to be written (shared)....
ideas to be flused out
for something better.
But the poem
won't be quiet.
I suppose you shape a poem
or develop it within your mind
but you have to give it some kind of form
on paper
or on our computer.
Tht's how it poosessess me, now,
the formless poem,
yet to be -
the ghost of another poem.
YOU ARE READING
Echoes of the Psyche
PoesiaThis is a collection of poems that in some way relate to mental health, psychological experiences, states of mind and so on. I have relied on my own empathy when describing the experiences of others to present different states of mind or internal ex...
