Stray

6 03 2008

Poetic evolution
of life
and lines.
Of places
and spaces
we were not supposed to fill.

I would punctuate
against my will.
Like a sheep
in the middle of a
wandering flock.
I didn’t even know that
all we did was
circle this block.
Again.
And again.
And forever again.

Until one day
I strayed to yellower pastures
just to see what life was like
on the wrong side of the fence.
And ever since then,
I’ve let these words roam free.
No longer chained by
some unoriginal sheep.

And for the first time
this life makes some kind of
sense to me.

[inspired by: Counterfeit Poetry]


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4 responses

6 03 2008
Scot

good one–you close very well.

“and for the first time
this life makes some kind of
sense to me”

NAILS IT!

6 03 2008
socratesoul

Thanks! That means a lot to me because I always struggle with the ending, just because I feel like it is so important. For me, the end of the poem brings a kind of symbolic closure to the topic being discussed.

6 03 2008
coldfire

good imagery in this poem.
I really enjoyed it.

6 03 2008
socratesoul

Thank you… How come the link to your blog doesn’t work? :S

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