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Sympatric Swayze

And he said unto us, “Hark! Could the owner of the blue 1993 Chevrolet Cavalier please contact reception? Your lights are on”.

Good morning, all creatures great and small! I’m annoyingly pressed for time today so let’s just proceed directly past the inane and proceed to adding in the requisite “s”.

This piece has some minor issues but I quite enjoy in it’s entirety. I actually used some grammar for once because the line counts felt inconsistent and separating with commas vs. periods seemed easiest as well as like a pityingly infinitesimal public service. Given such awe inspiring devotion I should really contemplate a foray into politics.


“Fray At Sway”, Sept 13, 2020. 

A dilapidated bridge extends over a yawning chasm,

The land’s gaping maw so incomprehensibly vast,

As to forcibly inhale any who might venture within range,

Like Jonah or Pinocchio, seemingly righteous leviathan’s coaxing judgement. 

Heavy mist besieges the already ominous surroundings,

Masquerading as near-corporeal within its impenetrable depths,

Inducing smokey visions amid the wondrous cascades.

Antique wooden posts bewilderingly still hold aloft well-eroded ropes,

The ancient rotted string somehow maintaining increasingly futile death clutch,

Beckoning pit eyeing the frail structure hungrily, famished,

Patience is a virtue but virtue is itself impatient.

A moaning creak sounds from among the innumerable rustic planks,

Half missing and a further third visibly decomposing,

Like the ebony keys of a long neglected piano,

Pieces once skillfully crafted now left to callously decay,

Diffident elements warping pristine constructions. 

Bones litter the cavern floor, lost in the fog of climate and memory,

Can never be reclaimed or even acknowledged,

With any who might attempt to recover certain only to join them. 

The clenching smog intensifies further and everything fades to gray 

Featureless landscape proffering decisive slumber 

Freedom for the free, appallingly steep, but at no charge.

—————————————————————————————————————————————–Hopefully you enjoyed as I’ve no further words for you at this time.

Be blessed, merry pilgrims. Happy “Fall”. 😉

-Alex Blaikie

Categories: original poetry writing

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

7 replies

  1. The first line of this poem got me thinking about the difficulty in connecting where we are with where we want to go sometimes. Then the struggle to decipher everything in between as we fumble along the path we can’t see. Thank you for sharing this investigation into wonder with us.

    Liked by 1 person

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