NEW Poem! by J.M. Driscoll

A voice

Deep from within my core

She screams at me-a tantrum boiling over

Angry, when I don’t get my way.

                So I cry; even when I can’t understand the reason.

She’s just a child… but fire is in her belly.

I think…we are separate.

“That must be the fool speaking”, informs the practitioner—She’s always in the know.

So I ask the creative team--the most complex artist tells me,


The cynic scowls, while rolling his eyes and smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. “Why bother? Just BE!”

And from the second level—though he changes place too frequently-- the Lover whispers,

                “A smooth stroke of ink—on paper seems to soothe the sorrows of the soul.”

So, I weigh the swirling opinions…for some miniscule,

Yet eternal seeming moment,

Because I cannot bear to listen to another,

  I write.

And all are silent.




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