04 March 2006

              Isn’t Really

              Thinking loose, morose thoughts
              is what I catch myself doing
              too often these days.
              Putting them down on paper is
              how I deal with them.
              So if my poems look black and
              bleak, I like to think that
              this isn’t really me.
              I’m a happier, simpler person
              than this. I’m not alone.
              I’m not lonely. Life isn’t these
              four walls and a window,
              one mind listlessly rearranging
              words into gloomy moods.
              I’m quite sure that this isn’t
              really me. It isn’t.
posted by Gilbert at Saturday, March 04, 2006


Blogger dreamer idiot said...

I think this is ok, though it might be 'nicer' to break up some of the lines, like "too often these days", but maybe that is part of your overall design for the shape of the poem, yes?

Some of the words used seem a little 'weird' like "loose" and "doing", while "black" and "bleak" though nicely alliterative appear a bit staid.

I like the second/bottom half of the poem, which I think captures a quiet rebellion against personal pall of unexplained moodiness.

March 04, 2006  
Blogger sigmund fraud said...

I never judge a person by his/her blog.

March 05, 2006  
Blogger MB said...

Gilbert, I think maybe I don't really understand this poem.

March 15, 2006  

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