Blurred passage to poem

How the poem appeared an object in the mist I paddled toward and circled round

And though it was odd and lustrous, with living things nesting and squirming inside, it was too tall and slick for me to climb. Better instead to paddle away, to keep it for myself, to leave it untouched, although it had touched me:

and in the distance there were more of them, but they were more fantastic from afar, they stood there anchored by something I could not see,

they were unchanging, not like me.

Photo by Loren Chasse, poem inspired by this one at The Disappointed Housewife.

Categories: poetry, prose, writing

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

10 replies

  1. very nice poem and i always have the feel that your works are caught somewhere being the awake and dream state.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thanks for the Housewife link, Bill! It’s a great piece, isn’t it?

    I love the idea here of a poem as something physical you get close to and circle to try and apprehend. Cool!


  3. My poems are like icebergs; best to avoid.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. The poem and the image sit together, whispering. But is it dawn or dusk?

    Liked by 1 person

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