PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

and now

I find myself alone

with pen searching

a melody to intone

with nothing left to prove

desperately on the move

traveling hillside farm

translating the thorough

humiliation

of one Vincent Van Gogh

My platoon wilderness

suffers indelible scars;

fjords jutting out

of open sea and land

under a star

and sloppy rhyme

out of time

may not be my forte

but I still strive

for that sense of import

and all the moments

of poems past are relived

and my contributions

to world literature

remain negligible

nutmeg melts my alertness

and the fog that lifted

is replaced by a hazy cloud

cast in violet brilliance

suddenly alarmed

by the pending midnight chime

that threatens to infect the soul

with dreary doldrums

I am struggling to keep the faith

in the face of whimsical malice

I am finding a greater power

when I pop on Mingus

and old sentiments are quizzical

as I look about the room

suddenly intently glaring

at a blank wall

with crusty cellophane tape

that once held up

a poster of Jimi Hendrix

from the heyday of rock

the beauty and splendor

of auburn fluid floating

seamlessly into night

the meaning elusive as ever;

jettison all useless knowledge

and unnecessary thought