Poem

It could be said, poetry
At first moves its toes, wiggles
Free of the past, the personal, the tidy,
The explanations that won‘t do.

At times, subsists on alliterative crumbs,
Cosmic airs, nuts and leaves, circular
Stars ringing in the heart.

The lofty ventures of time, verse, and graffiti.
And so very often, a dogged dream that sniffs out
The roads we oblige in our perambulations.

20 thoughts on “Poem

  1. Nice one Bob. I like learning how poems take shape and become what they are. In this case, it’s liberating to think “Free of past, the personal, the tidy….” Kind of opens up all kinds of possibilities. And the end about our “dogged dream that sniffs out the roads…..”

    Dreams are amazing. I keep a journal and pen beside my bed just in case I remember a scrap of one and typically when I do jot something down, it quickly mushrooms into more details

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    1. Thanks Steve. Maybe it’s these winter months, but shaking off what was seems to be a motif for me now. I used to keep a dream journal too. But it’s been some years since I’ve kept up with it. I should give it a read. See what’s in there.

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    1. Thanks John. Your last post Engage Me inspired me to finish this one. It had been lingering for awhile and I didn’t know how to put it all together. But after ready your post, I just thought, make it engaging. It did help I had the day off from work because we are having a blizzard and the whole city is closed down. So I had plenty of time to work on it.

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