andrew eisenschenk.
the thing about it is,
i cannot for the very life of me,
even in the greatest of reflection.
in simple recognition;
stricture.
upon my actions.
yield.
to the very thought of it.
can barely grasp
the incipient
of its endless core.
though it is a part of me,
that is for sure.
for damned sure!
as you can only
so easily contrive.
it rocks. muddles.
my comprehension.
my structure.
my voice.
causes a slight disruption
-now in disarray-
an abrupt and apparent break
through repetition.
-pretend not to agree.
that it didn't catch,
twist, linger.
to snap-
wait, again.
-oh, stop!-
like my words. my actions.
my place.
the time and existence.
the whole of
what i perceive
which i delegate into
creation. on hold.
clutched in remission.
as disease.
by the uncertainty
of that to come
and the outright fear
of progression
toward any certain thing.
-here-
and even in the wake
of its acceptance
and the ever present will
for forward
it is all i can do to
to sit
and watch it all fade
into
Author notes
...your call, casual or otherwise: my appreciation either way.
A contest entry
- You by Demington.
850 points, ended September 3, 2008, 20 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
I like this. A lot. It's kind of like breathing out after holding your breath for ten minutes and your face has started turning blue. That's the feeling I got, at least. Though it didn't feel like it was a complete release, to me, it just felt like you let go of something but there's still a lot left to deal with...
Maybe I'm getting this, maybe I'm not at all...but I liked it either way. -
-
you did get it, overall.
a lot of it has to do directly with my writing, and this (now months ago) was intended to relate how inadequate i feel when it comes to expression.
so obviouisly, still much left to deal with!
-
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