The Feel Of A Poem

the words are there
squatting
not in a position to attack
they're more of
in between
a choice of whether to retreat
accept defeat
or surge and collide and
burst and die

the pen looks at all of them
they're so helpless
like unborn babies
like hatched turtles
that do not know where the
sea is

and with a rash decision
the pen strikes at all of them
the hands are fed up
the heart is broken
the mind is dizzy
and the poet goes outside the house
looks at the garden
heaves a sigh
and then keeps a secret upon itself

it is the feel of the poem
and no one knows it except
the words themselves who finally
opened up
their wings and flew away

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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