turning rhymes into prose

turning rhymes into prose,
old thoughts and dreams
deconstructed and rebuilt,
to please the only ear that
can stand to hear them
after all this time alone

untangling stanzas and
couplets while rearranging
shelves full of notebooks,
elbow deep in words about
love and lust and betrayal,
epiphanies wink out when
compared with the truth

roping it all in with a lasso
made of twine, there is no
way to corral the hopes
in this pen, galloping off
with ideas that were not
quite concrete, leaving behind
hand prints that set too fast

longing to get feelings into
a form that means something
to someone in some part
of the world, traveling the thin
line between appreciation and
disparagement, flicking the pages
over the horizon, blurring with
the lines in the ledger

stars on the water show
the way home, darkness
slides slowly across the tablet,
leaving creation to touch and feel,
concepts bloom, pushing
perceptions through the
barrier between thought and
truth

— GB

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