Inspiration

Inspiration

In the morning, it hits them,

a mountain of words falling down a mountain,

a pebble,

then a stone,

then a boulder,

tumbling to the ground & bouncing on a page.

But for me, I get my poems by running in a field.

Arms waving mad,

smacking words like flies.

& sometimes,

sometimes,

I’m lucky,

I just relax,

& begin.

CB5-25-19 (pastel & poem by Charles Braddy 2018, 2019)

Advertisements