On Cue

Standing in a queue words felt the need
To formalise reflections, let free thoughts
Advance to meet the sheet with [th]inked reports,
Name frames which future frames of mind might feed.
Driving the need was fear that tides recede
In triple time. This frequently aborts
Native imagination – those transports
Germinated as poetic seed
INsight expressing at impressive speed
As neurons sort, report, and then export,
QUestions pulsed, expulsed, as spirit courts
Extra dimensions altogether keyed.
Used, not abused, creative energy
Extends emotions to eternity.

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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