Happy Game

Words drip and flow
from my pen,
wouldn't you know,
like a never ending
storm in my hand.

No matter how long
I let them all go,
they keep
filing up,
insisting to erupt.

In my head
I'm the artist
and the world
at my feet;
and canvas
and pallete,
waiting to meet.

My pen is one outlet;
a brush yet another:
my voice
and my body
each equal to
the other.

I ache to create
and to write
and to play.
Words can go
with me every
place which I stay.

Thought not all
are eloquent
or worthy of praise,
these poems make up
the thoughts of my days.

As artist I yearn
to constantly make
that world that's
around me,
but in my own take.

So though it may get old,
and these words weak
and lame,
these words are me,
and my own happy game.

Copyright 2009, Colleen Sarah Rice