Daily missive for Tuesday the 30th of December.~by Peter Forster

 

 

Daily missive for Tuesday the 30th of December.

So much left unsaid.
The words
I long to use
Never leave my head.
They roll around,
Forming, storming.
Turning on themselves,
Collapsing,
Self referencing.
Lost in translation
They become redundant
Before being uttered.
Light and airy phrases,
Drift on butterfly wings,
Gently fluttered,
Like pennants
In a soft breeze,
Before the heat of battle,
When for parsimony,
And peace of mind,
I often find,

It will only be
Those words, most prudent,
That are heard.
And the origin
Of my thought,
The simple gleaning
Of meaning,
Is waylaid, with
Sickening regularity.
A stumble and stutter,
A tongue rolled in butter,
When finally spoken,
As a token,
A term of affection,
They tumble out.
A chocolate box
Confection,
A picture postcard
Selection.
Never quite
Meeting expectation.
The meaning
Obscured
In obfuscation.
A desperate
Search for clarity
Of thought.
That in truth can
Come to nought,
If in a rush
To achieve a goal,
The words I find
While fine, and whole,
Have lost their heart,
Mislaid their soul.