Years piled upon years by 10s and 20s.
Jet stream of time flashes between blink of eyes
Till the years dwindle to a precious few.
So few! What legacy have I left behind?
A trail of inconsequential footnotes –
Dust prints of time.
So many unwritten poems
Ruminating on shelve of my mind
The edges need rounding not pounding -
Refine to smoothness of Jamba smoothie
The essencee to be inhaled into my soul
Or spit-out on this page.
Unending rewriting – rephrasing lines
Syntax and context obtuse – metaphor askew.
Confronting the havoc of confrontational wall.
Declension of convoluted mind –
Spiraling into vortex of memory –
Avalanche of time-worn years.
Obsessive fear of losing the edge –
Obsession to rise – a step above –
To the next level of perfection.
Aspiration to conjured poems that tremble the soul
Stirring the emotion to sublime height –
Transcending the spiritual high – the epitome.
Introspections and posturing web of intrigue
Yield not to the regressive mind.
Calm the soul – allay the tremulous heart.
Regroup and assault that wall of diminishing return
With a string of patched work of reclaimed words
Coalesce into this palpable ode – Eight and One.
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1 comment:
All of your poems flow so well.
This poem speaks of life gone by with so much still to do.
I am at a loss to what the title and ending line "EIGHT AND ONE" mean. I am curious to know, so, I can better enjoy the poem.
Julie
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