Poetry – Rumble, Tumble, Rumble

Rumble, Tumble, Rumble

I don’t know how this creative process works. I just imagine my head as a whirlpool of electricity, all those sparks jumping around. Each one is an idea. They swirl about in a hurricane of madness. My job is to catch them, tie them down and translate them into words.

The words are symbols for concepts. The concepts are wild, free and glowing with life but the words are black and white.

If I do my job right (which I occasionally do) those black and white symbols will light up as iridescent jewels in your mind and live again.

It’s a nice concept isn’t it?

This is part two of a trilogy on the same theme. I seemed to need to rework it in different forms.


Rumble, Tumble, Rumble

Rumble, Rumble

Churn and Tumble

Sparks and Electric Storm.

Fireworks and explosions

In scintillating form.

Within the tumble drier

The ideas come and go

Spinning in their fury

In their iridescent flow.

I trap with my magnetic net

And attempt to glue them down.

But I know they will lose their sparkle

Trapped in adjective and noun.

Opher 5.9.2015

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