Nothing but the filter

words I picked up
from the waterfall
at the water’s
edge –
where
I extract prose
from the
frequencies of living.

Yours truly
in the act
of mending
fractured pieces
of soul…
as I
convert poetry
from life frequencies
by way of listening
intentionally –
nothing but the filter
of living
at the site
of healing
frequencies
where I procure
my superpowers –
when enveloped
with the nefarious
forces of doom
in my darkest
hours
where I reject
their entreaties of defeat
with a serving
of middle
finger.
I won’t bend,
I won’t say when
until the job
is done
and I’m
at the end
gray… er
and regal,
esteemed
like the shoulders
that hold me
aloft.

Published by Shun P. Writes

Author, Genealogist, Writer, Poet, Podcast Host, possessor of 2 cents, Blogger and eternal student of life, who harbors a firm belief in his Grandmother's mantra that: "People need to get off of their rump and do something". All while keeping in mind that a cheering section will often get in the way. View all posts by Shun P. Writes

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