Shouting Rhymes

After a night

of haunting

and relentless

dreams

of fully-formed poems,

I am wired.

Caged in ribs,

heart flutters like a bird

anxious to break free

from captive night.

Hands ache

from wringing

bed-sheets of words;

mouth dry

from shouting rhymes

nobody heard.

In the early hours,

The mind is like paper –

blank –

and uninspired.

© Kim M. Russell, 2015

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