Herb515

Contenders till the end,
my inner conflicts compete for ascendancy.
Worries that once seemed terrible are not,
they are quickly forgotten, and tossed as passing fancies.
Competing thoughts flow swiftly through my mind
piercing my certainty or filling in a hole deep in my soul.
I grapple with fantasies to challenge their permanence
in the neural sea of my psyche when momentarily
denuded of all reasoning and good judgment.
Thoughts become like unrecognizable yet rapturous colors
lying like words on dust covered paper, or
explode like the colors of love.
Whimsy shapes my spirit as lunar cycles set my life,
without either, I am inexplicable and unpredictable,
stripped of all ingenuity.
At times, I feel my emotions are kindred to the strains
of Mozart or Beethoven or Bach in their musical purity.

Anonymous Encounter

i really enjoyed your word usage though you use 'like' a bit too much. it interupts and distracts from the actual flow of the poem. your similies are very nice though, i enjoyed them

Herb515

Thanks. I "like" your comments.

Regards,

Herb

Anonymous Encounter

your welcome.