Helter-skelter Pell-mell Davenport Poesy
A writer’s desk
a treasure trove
of unfinished projects, A clattered, unorganized mess
of strewn out papers and uttermost chaos;
A clove of ideas—
A bastion of creative thought,
thinking; barnyard eggs that still need hatching;
Infants still need born—
fertilized embryos to be nurtured and matured;
ripened fruit to be plucked.
to be excavated,
abundant with raw ore
that still needs mining,
perhaps even gold! and jewels!
that need be found, refined or polished.
It is a hydra,
Cut off one head—and seventy seven grows back;
A dark forest
which easy to get lost;
An Amazonian jungle—filled with
lions and tigers and bears—oh my!
It is a womb of new ideas,
Tales untold; A bird feeder-bird bath for the Muse,
There are many maps to many journeys
to be take,
But which to be taken?
There are many monsters to be tamed-filed, Put away for a rainy day;
who cry LOUD to be written,
Spoilt, obnoxious bratts!
Only silenced when they are
fed, burped, and put to sleep.
Stories that need
Poems that need be read,
Songs that need be sung,
Folklore, Odes, Lyrics, Fairytales, Myths—