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Open Poetry #49
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droplet.
| Open Poetry #49 |
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droplet. |
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RedStoneEB Senior Member
since 2003-06-08
Posts 772uk 
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As I close my eyes and darkness evades the light, dancing static images hydrate in the sphere-- washed out faces merge into a ever changing texture of colour; here the mind i see a leather bound book with worn pages some loose. The music is more a backdrop I have placed within my ears, while the senses go along their natural courses’ veering from one note to the next as i circle my finger on the thumb moving between then all trying to find a feeling, any feeling. Everything has become so detailed upon opening my eyes its as though before every detail was just flat as if I were moving page by page never really seeing the cube just the square. But even in this idealistically metaphorical world I do not feel real, ever the bystander watching the details of my own life-- in slides, there goes the projector of the mind, next one, this is the time...next one, ah yes... next one, next one, next one... How to explain that stillness, that pause, how it is grey instead of colour, where people don’t expect answers from you, they don’t question, but hear the same old lines the strangers of the world have said countless times, because we, these group of strangers do not know how to word it, do not know how to taste it for it is force-fed upon us, and when it comes time for explanations we are confronted by a dictionary of words that have no real meaning to those experiences shared. You think it is because they are down, you think it is as simple as turning a frown into a smile, you think it is as we are human light switches just that our switches were down, and all that is needed is a flick upwards, or maybe we just need to change the light-bulb, so tell me where do they sell replacements for the mind? tell me where do you go when you need to get the more social friendly less energy consuming bulb that costs less mental thinking, and gives more time. I do not know. I guess i’ll start from there, a simple phrase in itself, where most seem to have answers to long strung out riddles-- detours from the edges of buildings, where dangerously strangers dangle their feet over the edge, sometimes just to gain a feeling sometimes to stare upon death, or even gain a meaning. I’m not here to judge how others see the world or how their scope of mental illnesses makes them a expert in the field, I can only linger on myself, and feelings, if any were to be had, if only for a moments pause, to feel as if I were the rain not all of it just one drop one droplet falling down to earth, its surface, the cloud my birth, the floor my death unless I guess I crash into the sea and blend and stay awhile, maybe ill understand emotions better been among the tears, but seas are made from more than tears, water is the source of many things, I guess i’ll swim awhile and see, but still a droplet going unnoticed do you know me? |
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| © Copyright 2014 Lee Hepworth - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Honeybunch Member Rara Avis
since 2001-12-29
Posts 7115South Africa |
A very deep and delving write, Lee. I can relate somewhat. No one can really know another unless their minds can extend beyond the physical but even then it's a matter of own interpretation. Sometimes life can seem pretty meaningless hence the feeling of being a mere bystander. However, it's all we really have so we learn to be part of it but step back from the drama of it. |
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2islander2 Member Ascendant
since 2008-03-12
Posts 6825by the sea |
a very interesting poem, i think sometimes that others know us more than ourselves, i discover many reasons of reading this fascinating poem, introspection, elsewhere, infinity and humility, this is excellent yann |
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Margherita Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236Eternity |
to feel as if I were the rain not all of it just one drop one droplet falling down to earth, its surface, the cloud my birth, the floor my death unless I guess I crash into the sea and blend and stay awhile, maybe ill understand emotions better been among the tears, but seas are made from more than tears, water is the source of many things, I guess i’ll swim awhile and see, but still a droplet going unnoticed do you know me? An excellent, thought stirring write, dear Lee! Margherita "Love is the One who masters all things; |
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RedStoneEB Senior Member
since 2003-06-08
Posts 772uk |
thank you all for your kind comments, i wasn't really thinking when i wrote the piece, i tend to go into a trance and just get carried away by thoughts, i kinda play poetry like a piano, i just never use the score i make my own lines up. RS |
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