SOPHIE’S WORDS: Spoken, Written and Sung

A poem about trying to create something – that fragile moment when ‘it’ needs to come to you without your mind getting in the way.


Tentative tendrils
Reach out to embrace a wisp of thought,
A soupcon of motivation,
A minutiae of meaning,
A feather-tip of feeling,
A crumb of connection.

The tiniest seed has been activated.
No sign of life, of energy,
But resonating with a fragile will
That can only ascend towards its potential.
Let it be.
It is but a seed.

As an acorn lies upon the forest bed,
No thoughts of magnificence shadow its first trembling,
No cries of greatness drown the gentle awakening,
No gargantuan branches swathed in glorious leaves
Hamper its singularly simple self-esteem.
Let it be.
It is but an acorn.

A thought, a whisper,
A tingle, a flicker.
Without expectation.
Without doubt.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Let it be.
It is but a start.

3 thoughts on “Beginnings

    1. ANNIE says:

      PS I think you should add ‘Poet’ to your title! :o)



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