for me now life is a series of compartments i move between
with new ones on order tomorrow :)


Compartment

There is as I sit this contentment
That is attempting to being beaten by a butterflies wing.
There are many bruises inside our compartments...
Sometimes we remain unmarked.

All of my compartments are furnished infinitely the same way...
They just differ with my comportment...
All our behaviour is ever within our sweet control-
If we admit ourselves to ourselves.

Some compartments I visit seldom,
Some are daily chores.
Many bring me smiles-
I fancy future rooms the most.

Tonight
The compartment and moment
Are skipping before me with doors
Ever open.
It is hot.
The air is clinging.
It is quiet...yet
I keep hearing
Loved voices singing.





Poetry by jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 462 times
Written on 2010-08-03 at 00:20

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NicholasG
We are all cursed with sedentary nomadicisms, trying to appease our hunter gatherer instincts. To the joy of us all, some have chosen to stalk words and books. these are the padding for the sharpe corners of compartments :-)
xox Nick
2010-08-03


Stan Cooper The PoetBay support member heart!
Hi Jenks...when writing this poem, you evidently were in
your creative, lovely poetic compartment

xxx Stan
2010-08-03


shells
Loved this, it has a sense of order about it as well as honesty and hope, sort of seek and you will find yourself.
2010-08-03