Poem for Tuesday
Within a circle of emotion,
a seat was placed,
awaiting to be filled,
looking from left to right,
up and down
Inspiration flew from grasp,
withered to the ground, crept
under the chair of emotion,
sidling like a slug
leaving a slimy trail.
The chair remains...waiting,
unknowingly the invitation
lies sealed, caught
under the mat of morose melancholia,
trapped in tight fibres
Eyes large and wide
could not see the space...
how it gathered, freedom
surrounding the chair,
like a dare
Fear gawked, shook
its immoral head,
did not blush at its obstinance,
whilst shrinking and cowering
the chair engulfed
Deny, it won't be real,
will not protrude into
mind worrying madness,
fade off into some distant
shelf of dust
The invitation remains,
will you find it?
will it find you?
or remain under tight nit fibres
No comments:
Post a Comment