Long day. Odd poem. Thirty minutes. Rough draft:
***************
Tonight I feel fragile
Thick cracks spider
Cross my soul's face
Confusion-etched clouds
Glide behind my eyes
Impatiently waiting under
Waves of stormy silence
I wonder when
Will I be whole again
See me lean upon the chair's
Arm my head settled hard
Against my hand words landing
Like gnats need sweeping away
Fingers dig my hair
Nit-like they sit and pick
My wandering thoughts
Wondering when
Will I be whole again
Tips brush against my brow
Not roughly but lightly
Touching the right temple
I lose my mind
In the quiet sense
The cool sensation quick
To lift my head
With wonder when
I will be whole again
An interesting poem. I wonder what occurred at work for you today.
Posted by: Larry at December 12, 2007 5:07 PMThis seems sad . . . & it seems like it could be my own poem right now.
Posted by: Danna at December 12, 2007 8:24 PMrough day, huh?
it's good to have you back.