an old poet's kingdom

an old poet's kingdom

 

 

 

the dusty pile of books

on a desk of madness

i wrote with purpose once

 

then the keys lost their way

words obliterated my sanity

now i stare at a screen of sovereignty

 

i am king of my own white space

margins of rebellion,

there is a coup

 

and i am embroiled in my own alphabet soup

picking at the letters

dementia's child,

no longer the grownup in the room

 

i tap the keyboard with vacant fingers

in my rubber room frame of mind

 

and the dust deepens

i hear a car go by out on the gravel road of my interior design

 

it is lost

but sounds like life

i am lost

but no longer make any viable sounds

 

just let the dust settle

imagining one day,

i will reclaim the throne 

 

 

 

erin-cilberto

12/21/16

Reviews

[Jon Roggie]

Fresh breeze.
Dust blown away.
Words flow.
Memories add a flavor.
Thoughts add a dream.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i really appreciate your very poetic reply, Jon.
j.

[Jon Roggie]

Write my friend. The words will flow.

[Valentine]

This sounds like a few other writers on this site who have come to a dry patch in their creative efforts. All we can do when this happens is brush off the dust and pick up the pen. Valentine

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Kathie...

j.