February 19, 2010

1 Comments

February 19, 2010

 

 

I.

 

I am a child reaching

For a toy I can’t reach

But I see it and I want it.

 

II.

 

When thoughts become

Suddenly too hard to manage

And it’s all just a fantasy

All of my energy is exhausted.

 

III.

 

While she is busy

With one thing

or another

I am as always

In the same spot.

 

She is a fragment

In my mind

For now until

I can have her for real.

 

IV.

 

It would be nice

To see you for real

If I could afford the luxury.

 

V.

 

As I look up from below

Down underground

I reach up and try

To grab something.

 

I can hold on to

The air and the wind

But I cannot hold onto her.

 

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hippiegirl commented on February 19, 2010

03-12-2010

Heartbreaking.....beautiful words. Very well written

Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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