August 21, 2015
What is it about fear that so flusters?
I can sit and pick out every fiber
from some, a weaver unmaking a rug.
Other times, I am shaken by wells
of damp and gloomy dread that wash
over me when I’m most alone.
Lately I have found a honeycomb
of cells built in trepidation
of releasing unknown selves.
Whether threads or waves
cascade in me, I won’t know;
but the superstructure must go.
#### Poet’s Notes ####
!! I had another poem chosen for today, but wrote this in the morning and
decided to go with it. First time for a same day write!
If you feel strongly about this poem, leave a comment below!
(I won’t delete rude comments, I’ll just reuse them in a poem — with attribution. ;-))
The image of the initial draft is below: