I thought it appropriately ironic, given a wee dry spell, to re post a poem about…dry spells.

Rob's Lit-Bits

what is it I hear?

aloof and snooty, snubbing all who dare seek her way

sorting, one from another, lines dubious.

I look her way probing for

what?

drawing upon wells long dry oceans of dust

and cracks wearily worn upon my inner brow.

pondering the profound I pander to cliché

coaxing genies from bottles invisible.

I long to taste Dionysian delights

ag-ed

austere

perfect

but spew forth non-existent pleasures,

rhyming Morpheus himself to death.

wait I longer for words unheard

grasping for what refuses bit or bridle, lilt and song?

the mind yet uncaptured reels against itself

pursuing that which is beyond the chase

but, in the pursuing, doubles back to find…

the journey.


View original post

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s