352 Poem birth

My desk, pen and paper
scratch an itch in my brain.
Horney muses initiate unexpected
passions in my head,
orgasmic, semantic flow,
seminal impregnation
followed, by the labored birth of an idea,
pure content, not yet formed,
a yell not yet articulated,
a jangle of dissonant cords, not yet a melody,
a jumble of mumbles and maybes.

We wrestle.

Well wrought in the amorous afterglow,
the fetal urge matures.
At last,
a birth,
a poem.

About Ken Greenman

Married and Happy. Retired and busy. Living in NC. 71 and counting. December 12, 2020 and it's 72! ... I would love some written comments, critiques, adulation or kind suggestions.... If you have the time and or inclination, please feel free! Not in fear but by faith. We will see. See you later! If you ever want to talk for real, email me and I will send you my cell number.... I am enjoying this!
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