In Limbo
there are extenuating circumstances
palliative conditions not felt by anyone else
like unreciprocated desire for example
it culls stormy weather in the radical middle
of profound sadness and the lightness of contentment
I cannot seem to find the trajectory of my dented pattern
the impatience of having to wait for someone to endow
the impaired notions of memorizing romantic proverbs
for luck
why can I not enjoy the pleasant feeling of oneness, harmony
why can I not put this particular melancholy into wistful
words
and accrue eager detractors with the lure of
licentiousness
but we all know extravagances wane quickly in the glint
of morning
I am sojourned in limbo waiting for a sovereign man
I am abided by minted annulment anticipating love
**
I had some time to play with words today. I finished this little mess of a poem. I would reveal my inspiration but then it might ruin your interpretation. It comes from a deeply personal place and for some reason I had reservations about sharing it. Sometimes, what goes into a poem can make me feel insecure when it should be empowering. It does empower and help to release the stress of a dilemma once I let it go and share it, put it into the ether. So, that's what I've set to do today.
I am still working relentlessly on a pile of notes for my short story. I cannot seem to get my act together, get out of my own way long enough to get anything done. Perhaps once the renos at home are complete and my writing space is my own again and not cluttered with the downstairs mess I will be able to focus and carry on.
Fingers crossed.
Until then, one day left of the work week and I can cap the week off with a show at The Marquee with my buds. Deertick, Adam Baldwin and Jessie Brown. I'm looking forward to a little rock to relax me.
In propinquity,
Nic
Hmmm ... something's cooking if you're reluctant to reveal the inspiration on this one.
ReplyDeleteAs usual, the pieces we're most doubtful about sharing are the most moving and inspiring to others. I really like this one, Nic (as if I don't like every other poem you've ever written). The sense of frustrated longing can apply to many things in life, easily identified by an individual as shared with the masses yet utterly unique in its source.
Whatever the heck THAT means. Nice work, though. I'm mostly grateful to see you posting - I love visiting the Teapot, especially when there's a brew o' the day on the menu :)