I've been dreaming just a little too much of late,
not sure, maybe disguising how I feel inside,
I'm late for dinners and appointments I haven't made.
I draw circles in my diaries, a colour coded chart
but afterwards, I couldn't tell you how apart I feel
and going through the motions seems such a trite
excuse for losing myself in a different hemisphere
that I only read about in books and look at pictures.

I walked out for a walk in January
and now I find its June,
I'm dressed so inappropriately
bright fabrics I wrap around
just so one day you can unwind,
tell me, it was in my imagination
and bound me to a reality
which won't include you.

I'm a somnambulist, drifting through her days,
a myopic who wonders why the view is blurred,
and that we can live like this, lost in limbo
like scarecrows, arms akimbo, a roosting perch
for birds who pick at bedraggled strands.
I've been walking round in circles that
spacemen left, flattening the crops.
I've been anywhere but here.

Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 556 times
Written on 2009-06-01 at 12:21

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Mr painter
Nice written

Stan Cooper The PoetBay support member heart!
Hi Elle...very poignant and beautifully written...

I particularly liked the lines, "I walked out for a walk in January
and now I find its June"

You very adeptly make the reader feel exactly what you
are feeling, and that takes talent...

Keep chin up and you'll be your old good self again

xxx Stan

jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
William makes a good point imho...
I love the flow of this...especially as the thoughts are painfully logical...but also the fact you can express yourself this way makes any poet lucky.
I think many poets are so sensitive to the touches of life they have to think especially deeply...which makes us good at life in one way and not in others.
You always make me think.

Dee Daffodil
Great poem. I think I lost almost a whole year in limbo...even still I find myself with moments of being off in my own little world, and not fully grounded to reality just yet. They tell me that eventually you find yourself again. :-)

I know the feeling(s). but aren't we lucky that we can define them and make them into art. It doesn't always make them go away, but at least we understand more fully what's happening to us. Thanks for another remarkable poem.