Feel It, Believe It

Poem By Ayn Timmerman

I pause, each time one brushes by,
determining the force of the message,
processing sometimes obscure meanings that
may alter the entire course of events,
leaving me powerless to change.

Line and form dance before me,
with color lending mood to the scene,
objects leap with purpose, attempting
sometimes to impart their reason on me.

Matter constantly streams by, unseen,
but faith and instinct tell you something
is there, that you believe without the
benefit of knowing why the atoms take up space.

Minute particles dock in respectively learned
positions that identify with an object,
also unseen but evoking memory,
hunger pangs for something from your past.

The trick is to go slow, savor it
and not bolt it down thoughtlessly,
and also to be thankful regardless
of the effort it took to make it.

The patter of drops is sad, like the
wind sighing above you, as bells toll
in celebration and life, we are
blessed with the thought of other's thoughts.

From some cranial recesses the flow
of unconscious urgings and spontaneous
convulsions act as a collaboration of the
soul and heart, driving a few towards madness.

Some lust for knowing why we have the
ability to question and wonder, why do we
feel and act, the reason for hope
fear joy sorrow and even, why we
are cursed to express this to the
ones tied down and unknowing,
unenlightened to the reason for everything

Comments about Feel It, Believe It

There is no comment submitted by members.


Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of TIMMERMAN

A Quiet Mind

Lift up the cover and look
at the things scattering,
hidden, secret things;
the way insects

Cerulean Blue

With one finger
I paint a
Cerulean blue streak

Break Loose

I am stuck in a daily circle,
a routine that limits my
energy since I am a part of
a cycle conforming to

Ecology

I.

The sun has brought
the temperature up to

The Change (Fall)

A cold stone sun,
white disc behind
a gray haze-

Insects

Japanese beetle lace
hangs as delecately
as moth-eaten curtains
shrouding the field