Poetry by Brian Christopher Giddens
The brace of wind
Belies the broad blue sky
And puffs of clouds above me.
I walk, briskly,
To clear my head.
But let’s be honest.
My head is as empty
As a vacant room,
Dull, devoid of detail.
I need an image.
An image that gives birth
To a first word, then a series of words,
Forming sentences, creating a theme,
A theme that leads to a poem.
Or perhaps a story.
An idea that sparks imagination,
A bursting star in a black sky,
Creating a world, a place,
Out of nothing.
A world of words that
Make my fingers fly ‘cross the keyboard
Stopping at times, mid-flight,
To wipe my eyes,
Or laugh out loud.
Lost, in a new land.
Brian Christopher Giddens writes fiction and poetry from his dining room table in Seattle. Brian’s writing has been featured or is pending in Raven’s Perch, Litro Magazine, Silver Rose, On the Run Fiction, Glass Gates Collective, Roi Faineant, Flash Fiction Magazine, Hyacinth Review, and Evening Street Review.
