As the subject line says, I wrote a new poem. As usual, this shouldn't be considered a final version, as I may decide to change any or all of it in future.
Again
My head got stuck in the jaws of anger
today; crazy hijacked my afternoon.
It doesn’t last, I say, it doesn’t last –
and I pretend to listen and believe,
as though I were a creditable source.
And that’s the truth, it doesn’t last – but damn,
it always, always crashes back – and ten
by twenty thousand times, it kicks me down.
But I am sitting here, I am alive.
I try to find some solace in these words,
some meaning in the pain, again, again,
a measure of protection … for next time.
The roaring storm is no more than a sigh
when set against the years that fly away.
2 comments:
I like the way you've expressed yourself in this poem. It's already impressive as it is; I'd be interested to see how it turns out in its more "final" version.
Thanks for the positive feedback, Marie! I don't really know if I'll make changes to it - sometimes I need to look back at it after weeks or months, and then decide something between, "That's still all right!" and "Yuck, it's really not as good as I thought it was, now I'm embarrassed!" If I do additional edits, I'll run the new version by ya. ;-) Thank you again!
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