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Soberish and Aware of Death
The body of the paragraph
is like the body of the wave
that sweeps along the shore to take me far away.
But lately all the currents
are stagnant and morose,
leaving me so stranded along polluted coasts.
And the body that I occupy
has failed me time again,
adhering to the circuitry that's shorted in my head.
But the sunsets are quite pretty,
all gallant and far off;
likened to a shining hero at which I tend to scoff.
I bare the cynic's lacking,
my patience and my needs;
I wield a trite indifference like pikes torn from the reef.
I ask myself the questions
that will never cease their plaguing,
the answers cast like lures to depths as I continue aging.
I cannot take the mirror's word,
I cannot bid my tapestries
for every time I come to sell, you stick your nose up to the breeze.
So each new Sunday I am left
to beach myself and recollect
the passages of weekend woe and all the different girls I'd met.
And each new time I rise to work -
soberish and aware of death -
I feel that space just to my left and think of who may fill it next.
A well-written, thought-provoking poem
There is a sense of hopelessness in this poem yet there is also much beauty in it. Plus the last line of the poem reveals that there is still some hope left. My favourite lines are "I cannot take the mirror's word" and "So each new Sunday I am left/to beach myself and recollect" Don't worry. That space to your left will be filled :-) A good poem!
Check out my poetry book - as I write it! http://lostincyberspacepoems.blogspot.com