Scattered notions in the head,
Like an unseen fault in a bridge’s span,
Or a casual thing that someone said,
Or the worldwide nature of misguided man.
–
See revellers in a moonlight dance.
A runner slowly losing pace,
Or drug-takers staggering in a trance,
How the privileged maintain their lofty place.
–
Criminals meet and quietly plan.
Thinkers probe the thoughts of the masses.
An infant undergoes a scan.
A boy detecting leaking gases.
–
In a quiet room, there’s a distant shout,
While beneath the stars, bonfires rage.
Jitters when the power goes out.
The scent of books as they slowly age.
–
Bird song in the early morning.
Such long hours chatting on the phone.
Sirens sounding out a warning.
A soldier crouching all alone.
–
A much loved tree being felled.
A patient wondering what comes next.
A tearful child being held.
A desperate teacher looking vexed.
–
Bullies hurting out of spite,
Or people seeking auto parts.
Distant worlds only seen at night,
Or lovers nursing broken hearts.
Placing bets on backstreet fighters.
Children running on a beach.
Blank pages staring back at writers.
Using hands instead of speech.
–
Those just tiring of society,
Or watching birds in treetop nests,
Or teasing men for their sobriety.
Breaking open treasure chests.
–
The anguish of an erring priest.
Fallen people making headlines.
Conquering heroes at a feast,
Or safety flouting, keeping deadlines.
–
Scattered notions swim around,
Each one playing some sentient part.
A surfeit of ideas are found.
In truth, an agonising way to start.
–
Wherein these idle thoughts abound,
Within each one, so little known.
No external source will sound.
It’s in the writer’s head alone.