Poetry aborted by rude interruption
derailed train of thought
leads to disenchantment
Where was it heading?
The train steams off into the horizon
leaving you in the dark
the grandiose vision rendered
inexplicable—hobo on the tracks
chasing futilely the fleeting dream
Poetry aborted by the incision
of bland conversation pieces
into my eyes fades the ripe apple
plunging desperately to the ground
Worms quickly descend
to rot and decay the fresh fruit
There are times when I
There are times when I realise that I am the 'hobo on the tracks' that interrupts Poetry that I am attempting to keep from being from being aborted.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
We're all hobos on the track
We're all hobos on the track but it's usually the insiders that interrupt poetry. thank you for reading and commenting.