Fragments

Fragments

It descends upon me when I am ill-prepared
When I have no paper or pad to soak it up
And I try to grab the last bits of inspiration
Before it all vanishes back into the oblivion
This is usually how it comes through to me
Precisely the hour when I shower I can see
Streams of consciousness go down the drain
Some great line, or refrain... it’s such a shame
These poetic duds mixed with the soap suds
Perhaps they will return to me when it rains
Even while I drive, my mind will still contrive
Verses I try to repeat while navigating streets
But it never quite comes back entirely complete
I wonder what marvels could have manifested
Like Michelangelo attested that his uncut marble
Contained sculptures trapped within each rock
If I could chisel poetry out from my mental block
I would display it in the museum of my mind
But instead I find galleries of unfinished works
Ideas and phrases scattered on different pages
What once seemed brilliant is lost to the ages
How I wish that I could bottle these thoughts
Fragments that I would protect and preserve
Opening them only when I was ready to serve

JMC
7/21/10
(c) 2010