Ideas, Sparks, and Creations


Sometimes I can see a spark in the distance,
it’s faint, but it’s always there.
Beyond the horizon, beyond the tree line
outside the limits of a simple mind.
I have always wanted to go there
to see it in person, if only for a moment.
If I could hold it, grasp it in both hands,
I would be the first to hold a star.
The first to say I completed the one thing I had hoped to achieve.
To hold a dream, the pure image of reality.
An idea, a creation, an open book,
thoughts turning into a cache of life.
Colors sprang from simple words,
uttered secrets dangerous to none other than the seeker.
Power given to the mind of the contender,
battles fought within the depths of the mind.
Creations found in the souls of the audience.
The bounds of the power of words,
seem to have no limitations.
An eternity of nothing but ideas, life, battles, and colors.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem



This Poems Story

Provoking thought, my poems usually mean a variety of things as they are free poetry.