[NOTE: Completely impromptu, result of a 5-minute experiment. Please comment on ideas contained herein, and not on rhyme scheme and figures of speech and other flowery terms adamant on divorcing poetry from truthfulness.]
Sometimes somethings, like snowcaps in a frozen time,
Inertia-stricken; by change, are never plagued.
Why then do others, change at will,
Why, like portraits never unfinished or finished,
With brush strokes wild and dabs of creativity,
Get washed off and go, never to return.
Like leaves in autumn, shriveled, haggard and gangly,
Frail and hinging, auburn and yellow,
Taken in the stride of the daunting wind,
To fly, fly and soar, away from home,
Away from innocence, from what was once one’s own.
The damning waves approach and come and never fucking go,
Annihilate, ravage, level, plunder and corrode,
Like dreams caught up in an unannounced quicksand,
The sand castle of men made sometime somewhere.
The charming adolescence of thought and reveries,
And beautiful, unassuming, unpretentious words of heart.
Matriculate into malevolence, blind faith and vanity.
Oh world, big world, thou art too mighty,
Keep to yourself your corruption, your gangrenous
articulations.
Let me grow old and die without the imposed albatross around
my neck.
2 comments:
Totally agreed, we're all in a little thatch hut, broken to shreds upon a little wind's threat.
Nice, spontaneous.
thanks, as always!
Post a Comment