A Lament of Poetic Influence


I will write you a poem,

that tells of sun beams, moon dances and mellow skies.

I will write you a poem,

that shakes rustic leaves, leaving trees

to face a seemingly trepidatious breeze and-

I will write you a poem,

that brings about a stout mood, undiscerning.

A concoction of excitement, vulnerability, anxiousness and anticipation.

I will write you a poem. One day.

But for now, take heed this read of, ‘it is what it is.’

Stone hearts are hard to melt.

A charcoal slab betwixt the sheets of an unmade wedding bed.

Mangled with duvets of misplaced passion; embracing pillows of tears-

stained minds of what was meant to be a sure thing.

To be sure of a sure thing begs the question; can we be sure of anything?

The fear of being sure you have it all; at risk of loosing it, again

repeats on a soul until it heaves energy into universes incomprehensible,

birthing feelings of doubt and second guessing which boomerangs back into our realms of atmospheric logistics.

It’s times like these I wish the crystal ball was clear.

Does anyone ever pursue something that’s predetermined?

Can we afford to assume our lives are our own?

Is there such thing as ‘meant to be’ and if there is, what kind of sick world do we live in?

What sort of time frame does a man give himself if he knows not when he dies? Or when he’s ever really lived?

No. The tears of a clown hide behind the fool of non-conformity:

The one who makes an effort to become a parody of herself,

only to learn she’s just as unique as everyone else.

The pills we swallow cut the edge of our throats as they’re forced down by sounds of mother tongue,

reeling reality to ears hard of hearing.

Bleak am I who sits in a box room plagued with purple, polka dot posters and past time photos.

Paraphrasing a year’s worth of emotions,

co-motion’s of stomach flips and pen tricks take me to and from the page

as I try to gauge a situation developing faster than lightening

-it’s frightening…and cliche,

but yet so original, individual when isolated. And magnified.

I will write you a poem. Once it’s safe to say. I’ve thought of one.



One Comment Add yours

  1. Reblogged this on The Chronicles of Nadia and commented:

    I stumbled across this old gem and found myself taking a trip down ‘Introspective Lane.’ It’s amazing to look back and see how much life has changed in 4 years. I guess it’s life’s way of reassuring me that there’s an exciting future ahead?

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