My mind is up to trickery, <br />to find the words like chicory, <br />rhyme them with words like hickory, <br />and keep this poem going. <br /> <br />Rarely do I know, <br />which way the pen will flow. <br />How far the words will go, <br />and exactly what they're showing. <br /> <br />But something must be said, <br />to keep at bay my head. <br />So visions can be seen and felt, <br />like a swelt upon the dead. <br /> <br /> Forgetfully remembering, <br />un- learnedness of soul. <br />Restless forever searching, <br />out things I think, <br />I do not know. <br /> <br />I must stop this fire here, <br />I must stop, <br />and drop, <br />and roll.<br /><br />saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stop-drop-roll/
