My poems derail themselves often. They almost never end with the meaning that was intended. I’ll stick to my plan until about 6 lines in and then whatever sweeps over my head and my hands – it’s over so I go along with it. I don’t mind because they’re my thoughts. I write how I think. Often, my thoughts get lost. I move on to the next. Go along with it. Then I go back and look for the patterns, find the themes that keep coming up when my need for control is finally dropped.
Inside Jokes
I have so many inside jokes
and by that I mean
sometimes I laugh when I’m walking down the street
when whatever train of thought derails in my mind becomes a little too funny.
I can’t stop my giggles
only at the most inappropriate times
they break the silence
storm into the room, mindless
never paying attention to anyone but you
A sound can replace word
without understanding being lost
I don’t even just mean laughter
sometimes as simple as a pop
I have so many inside jokes
I’d share them all with you
as long as I know
I’ll get to hear you laugh too
Even better
They’re always followed
with I love you
Much love, until next time.
Madeline May I... 