Stream of Consciousness

Yesterday morning I woke at 4AM again

And once more my mind got churning.

I juggled with some words in my head,

Composing free verse on how I write my poems.

I wondered whether I should grab a pad

And write.

Or even get on my laptop.

But I made myself go back to sleep,

Forgetting it all.

So here I am,

A day later at 10.30AM,

Pouring out these verses:

A sort of Stream of Consciousness.

No thought of structure

Or metre

Or rhyme.

Just emphasising certain words and phrases

By giving them separate verses

Of their own.

Something I learnt once

When reading a book in Pudsey Library

About how to teach kids to write poetry

An easy way.

Unfettered by considerations of metre or form,

You can express yourself freely,

As deep as you wish.

Just let your emotion

Or Philosophy

Run free.

Let your words cascade

Over those shiny pebbles.

Babbling along through winding willows,

To crash over waterfalls

In a crescendo of sound.

A stream that sparkles in the light

Of sun or moon (and stars),

Wafted by scents of abundant flowers

And sappy cut grass.

God’s Grandeur radiating all around.

Enjoy.

Paul Butters