Today cannot be a Poem

see, today cannot be a poem…

even though it unravels like a heavy scroll,
a secret note
from a caravan of spices and silks
lost on a mountain track just wide enough for curiosity;

though it waits in the armpit of a hesitant clock,
an empty scabbard
filling with shreds of spongy sunset
curdled by the timeless sword of ennui;

though it cries with the sound of the desert rain,
a pencil caricature
of cubes of frozen light
drowning in the cast iron goblets of reality;

see, today can never be a poem…

even though it writes on these diagonal lines
an absent truth
with wordless fingers that unkiss the lies
on the the clenched lips of made up memory.

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34 thoughts on “Today cannot be a Poem

  1. luv the way you goad us readers to your quote of today, and continue to entice us with the last verse, without the missing pieces in place. an enigmatic write, happy Tuesday.

    much love…

    Like

  2. But it is you see ~ I specially admire this part:

    even though it unravels like a heavy scroll,
    a secret note
    from a caravan of spices and silks
    lost on a mountain track just wide enough for curiosity;

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Ah, the fear of never quite living up to the image of the ideal poem in our mind – we can almost reach it, sometimes we catch fragments of it but never quite…But to me it also speaks a little of the feeling of impotence that we sometimes have in the world, that poetry may not be enough, the day is too grim for it…

    Liked by 1 person

  4. There are no days, no moments, no emotions that cannot become a poem; poetry hums through the veins of events, of the landscape itself as life’s blood, but the brain becomes the heart as poetics flow, & words set the beat. Yours was a strong & rich read. I like the lines /a pencil caricature/of cubes of frozen light/drowning in the cast in goblets of reality/–superb wordsmithing.

    Like

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