Stung
Mosaic - October 10, 2004
The poem is a flying hornet
Buzzing in the mind
Its hive is full of buried thoughts
Both negative and kind
It's sting stirs up clever ideas
Just waiting to be said
It's busy searching for something
That's floating in your head
Soaring wildly in all the wits
He discovers cursed words
And turns them completely around
Into pure and clean verse
When it comes time to set it free
And create measured rhyme
It releases all of your thoughts
And reads as sweet as lime