Life Support written by Elaine M. Mullen at

Life Support

Life Support

written by: Elaine M. Mullen



Were I to stop writing short stories and poetry
My heart would shrivel from atrophy
It is there my words originate
The birth and delivery of all that is me
With a little support from my cerebral cortex
The alphabet escaping a never-sleeping vortex
A whirlpool of information, entertainment and a challenge or two
My soul sings the vernacular refrains of a Poet
What I have always been called to do

Poems; my love letters to the universe
Beyond the range of my voice
My gift, simply given back to the Giver
Because of Whom, I have no choice
For, even when not astoundingly prolific
My words have given me a voice
Perhaps to change a life or two along the way
My forever-fertile muse tapping the Oracle of thought
Calliope, Clio and Erato, the muses of poetry
Whom I know little about, but they certainly know me
Giving me the power to alter the barren landscape of an uneventful day
Words save lives, can change lives
Inspire, implicate and motivate – not just mine alone
If by no other reason than my words,
My morals and what I stand for will be known

They are all that I lay claim to
Refusing to wear the garments of impotent protection
To challenge the passive idleness and crooning of:
“There is nothing we can do.”
“No, There is!”
We have the power within our very hands
Ten fingers can change a landscape of impotence
Make lush, the desert sands
Their power, limitless; more for me to grasp or know
Explaining or empowering verdant heads for the taking
The power of a typist expands

The embryonic motion a Poet goes through each time
To alter, question or inspire
Greedily wanting more than just your attention and mind
We seek to set your spirits on fire!
An 8 1/2 x 11-inch invitation to us all
To pique your interest and desire
Or words convey us, betray us
Reveal and expose our core
One’s very essence leaking through the hands
On its’ way to being more
Than just a Cavalier contemplation or Haiku to memorize
No, our objectives and goals are totally emptying ourselves
To possibly expose and challenge lies
The impassioned pleas of cadence
Poetry: a libation to drunken the soul
Those enslaved and empowered by chance, by thus
Only in writing, are we made whole

I, at least, cannot stand idly by,
Watching insane history in the making and not ask: “Why?”
No, poets are driven to comment on same
For whatever it is worth
Shaping perceptions or raising doubts; we are culpable and to blame
For opening the eyes of the many to the mendacity that plagues
With fingers pointed in the direction of inane
Praying for synaptic firings, responsibly thinking outside the box
Within our minds, encrypted, are the keys to so many locks
Never will I be accused of silent complicity
If nothing else; I will be scribbling my passions, protests or eulogy,
Until my time as a Poet ends.


Copyright – 2015 – Elaine M. Mullen – “Another Place Entirely” – Xlibris Publishing Corp.
“The GreenOgress – Unleashed”

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