Monday, January 2, 2012

Why I Don't Write Poetry 1012-1

The fallen leaves,
Fly in the north wind
Like a group of thieves,
Robbing the thoughts of my mind.

Confined in a depression
Of my perception,
Thoughts of confession, obsession,
Too often misconceptions.

An escape, a flight to deliverance.
Of thoughts clear and luminous
Free from disregard and ignorance.
Spoken full of truthfulness.

Still the wind blows,
The leaves are free to fly.
But my mind is closed,
Locked with no reply.


Cheryl Peters said...

You caught those leaves in the midst of their wind blown descent in your amazing photo.

How can you write so seriously and then turn around and make me laugh! This poem is deep, deep, deep. I'm gasping for air far from laughing.

Nice work, Walk.

Walk said...

I like that line, "I'm gasping for air far from laughing." I may have to use that, sounds kinda dark, doesn't it?

Walk said...

Oh, by the way, I didn't take the photo and don't know who did. It is a great photo though.

Beth said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Beth said...

I especially like the image of fallen leaves as thieves.

Walk said...

Thanks Beth, I hit on a good phase every four or five years.