style (in)adequate
I have my style.
it isn't yours.
that's ok, because
I don't always
understand your
sense of it. often
I drink in self-critique
over my lack of
vocabulary. simplicity
doesn't linger in our
eyes, however. look
into mine - big words
swim saline oceans,
tread water, then
crawl to the shore
of my face to whet
a forest of thought.
I like the forest. there
is danger, but safety,
too. in it , style glides
beneath a canopy of
leaves, a soothing
balm of breeze that
needs no vocabulary.
Poem © 2013 Rick Burnett Baker
Photo "Wings" shared by Tess Kincaid.
...perfectly said, Rick.... the last two stanzas are my favourite.... loved it! smiles...
ReplyDeleteA beautiful forest, indeed...nice one, Rick...
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed this one rich with a forest of thought
ReplyDeleteBeautifully done. How rich your words.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
Rick ... this is lovely. Danger and beauty in the forest, for certain. Happy Week!
ReplyDeletelovely Rick- especially the last verse
ReplyDeleteI love this, Rick, especially "whet a forest of thought'
ReplyDeleteIn this one, I feel like an anchor. A place that people come back to. A touchstone who wants to be more. Because there is a forest in there as vast as the ocean they keep swimming out to.
ReplyDelete