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Tossed and Found

Chirp, chirp, rooster caw, inappropriately early lawn mowing, other arbitrary sounds of morning… and I do hope it’s a grand one! Thank you for joining us once again for these crassly inimitable scribbles. You are always so exceedingly welcome!

It’s a bit early here still for my brain to functionally ad-lib here so let’s fuck up this poem and see after to what degree my fires are rekindled. Admittedly, the pilot has been out for years. 🙂


“Paradise Found”, July 23, 2020.

An enigmatic figure looms beyond a tattered curtain

Shroud gently rippling despite irrationally stagnant air

One wizened hand parts the ancient veil

And corresponding emaciated finger beckons forward

Feet respond instantly, violating fervent desire to back away

Momentarily putting aside terror, contemplate, friend or foe?

Both, somehow answers a reverberating voice of striking familiarity

Adroitly plucking query from hitherto  presumed safety of fleeting internal consideration

Now drawn past disguising shroud the face is agonizingly clear

It is you, or rather your infinite ever-shifting permutations

A never-ceasing cascade of choices made and decisions to come

Each unique combination producing a minute or perhaps radically different result

All existing simultaneously and not at all, a refracted prism’s dancing spectrum

Drawing pictorially comprehensive map but lacking scale or markings of any kind

So unable even to discern the proper angle for examination

But one can never arrive without first selecting a destination

Even should the route appear  perilously undefined

Because at times, adrift in the journey, you look up astonished to have already arrived.


I was once lost trying to find my back to a friend’s cottage, late at night and in something of a stupor. Just when I had essentially resigned myself to a night’s wandering suddenly looked up and was somehow there. Granted this is remarkably lacking in the profound but when young and drunk everything is a transcendental experience. Incidentally, stumbling upon a life revelation while urinating is known as an “epissphany”. And you thought the German’s had a word for everything.

All the best from Catherine and I! May your bellies be full, minds eagre and hearts ever open.

As an aside, I have a few readers in Hong Kong and while avoiding saying anything explicitly, cognizant of your situation, I wanted simply to say that the World has not forgotten you. I have not forgotten you. Heroes.

-Alex Blaikie


 

 

 

Categories: poetry writing

Tagged as:

dReadpoetssobriety

A fractured mind held together by cellophane and some used tack.

15 replies

  1. A shaky start but you finished at a gallop! “a refracted prisms dancing spectrum” was my favourite line but makes me feel like you have been collaborating with your friend Kate?!!

    Also pass my regards and support for the heroes in Hong Kong, everyone should be supporting them!
    All the best

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Unless you are a famous poet=poets don’t make lots and tons of money. Poetry in the writing field is at the very bottom of the scale, but poetry will rise to the top of the literary world when poets unit and make it happen. Poets can have readers grasping in one poem that take readers and fans a book of three hundred pages to accomplish. Love poems are the poems that lovers buy, and poets who are able to bring something new to the table except copycat stuff akin to Shakespeare, Rumi, and those in the past similarly situated; then poets of today will make poetry fresh, refreshing and more creative than the literary masters of the past who I honor and respect, but treasure the opportunity for me to exceed then and transcend them!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I felt the force of Nature pressuring Coal into Diamonds, I felt the treasure seeker finding the Diamond in the rough, I felt the lady with the sewing machine fine the needle in the haystack, I felt all of that through my creative forces to innovate.

    Keep writing!

    Liked by 1 person

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