The Fool

rainbow brain

At end of week, the mania asserts
itself again, till she’s compelled to glean
the world of words. She casts about; she flirts
with phrases till conceit emerges clean
enough to press its form upon the page.
And then she works with it and lets it flow
or whispers it upon her quiet stage,
until it dwindles or begins to glow.

And so the sonnets seep and spring from her,
the words as often generating theme
as following ideas that move and stir
the maker who’s a fool for self-esteem,
the jester in the palace of her brain
who juggles to suggest and entertain.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s