Figments of imagination

The figments of my imagination are like wrecks sublime,
Waiting to be unearthed until I plunge into the seas of passion.
I climb a bewitched ladder into the world of ecstasy;
Where strangeness rules and reason fades into oblivion.
I become a zombie, a slave to the musings of my psyche.
The sudden unbearable urge to give vent to my imagination.
The passion of creativity seizes me by the throat.
The lines that you peruse are the only culmination.


The figments of my imagination are like wrecks sublime,
Waiting to be unearthed until I plunge into the seas of passion.
I try to mould words like clay being shaped into a pot,
The effort leaves me sweating; defeated in exhaustion.
But the elation at giving life to my humble musings;
Is more than I could ever ask for in compensation.
I ogle at these etchings like an indulgent mother,
Attaining divine content with every single adulation.