Goldenarticles articles

The time has come and animated - poetry


Most of my poems are in black and white late at night, often, as this one was, after I have crooked out the light to go to sleep. It seems that is the time when I am most creative. I hope you enjoy these two poems that talk a diminutive bit about where my ideas come from.


My mind is buzzing
as I try to sleep
the words won't rest
all about me they creep.
They cry to me
with their siren song
"just a few more lines,
it won't take long".
And so I succumb
I pick up my pen
I dash down a few words,
I wait and then. . . .
I try to sleep

March 5, 2004
Fran Watson

The Time Has Come

The time has come the poem said
for you to write that I might be read
and so I took my pen in hand
and wrote the words at its command.
The words spewed forth as I obeyed
The poem hunted its glory displayed.
It shimmered, it glowed, it shone with delight
it showed off its power as I brought it to light.
The words began consecutively and singing and dancing,
and then quite and grief-stricken and then into romancing.
Up one side, cross over, now run over there,
I wait and then. . . .
Now quickly, now slowly, now gently, more care.
Swiftly they tumble, they rush and they pour,
then all of a sudden they stop. I hear them no more.
Where do they come from and where do they go?
Alas it's fateful I certainly don't know.
If I knew, I could coax them to come out and play
when I chose, as a substitute of awaiting their stay.
But lif is just like that, it ebbs and it flows,
like words of this poem, it comes and it goes.
We know not our journey, its only begun,
we just step out there gently and walk towards the sun.
And gradually or at once our journey is o'r
and just like this poem - there is no more!

Copyright Feb 13, 2005
Fran Watson

Fran Watson
http://www. franwatson. ca
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