Poem- The Words Flow

The words flow

Like a bottle

That fills my glass

It is not my first

And will not be my last

Not even for tonight

As one becomes another

And another until I crash

Falling from the table

It is inevitably smashed

All the pieces

Are strewn about the floor

Searching through them frantically

For the one shining example

I can adore

Heart pumping oh so fast

Hands with never ending movement

Trying desperately to grasp

When that piece is found

Of exceptional quality

I will not have to ask

But will be overcome by the moment

And the feeling of creating something

That will forever last


67 responses to “Poem- The Words Flow

  1. This longing that mankind has of being remembered forever is interesting. How we reject the idea that we are born, live, die and then there is nothing. All cultures address the spiritual needs of its people in one way or another so innate is this need. Your poem is intriguing and well done. Thanks! hugs, pat

  2. WOW … LOVE IT. .. Can see the image clearly of drinking till completely drunk

    “As one becomes another

    And another until I crash

    Falling from the table”

    I love the fact that words are the object of his addiction – coz they’re mine too …

    Awesome piece!

  3. I think that’s why writers write – to leave something behind that says, “I was here.” Then again, I could be wrong…. 🙂

  4. Ahhh, I love when the muse strikes and the poems flow out. I guess it’s a frame of mind of a mood? At any rate, I love when my glass gets filled too, and numerous times — drunk on poems!

    • exactly! I love it too there is no feeling like it. There are those that you right a few lines you think for a min write a few more etc. Then there are those that you can not type fast enough. This was one of those. thanks again

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