inspired by constraint


IMG_0317Brixton High Street at night

Not tried poetry in a long time. Not since reading my adolescent angst back to haunt me 10 years ago. But felt inspired on my way home…

Seething beneath the surface
of my ability to express
it I grab hold of thoughts
and feelings and worry
the weary weight of me
begins my grip to slip from.
I let go.

And watch my hopeful creativity
drift like shadows of people
in half remembered dreams
when sheer terror brings
a consciousness to bear
that cannot distinguish between
the real the imagined.

Seat-bound and constrained
by horizons of rope and reason
ennui and fatigue
idealism and frustration,
I strain against the backrest
the armrest the windows
the outside world.

Home-bound and befuddled
I ponder on white wine and hummus
the things of the flesh
and ease and comfort,
away with the high flown
thoughts and wonders
seething beneath the surface.


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