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wRitIngPoetry
one sad poem stands alone
as a lonely, mad poet stumbles,
in a daze, through a maze
of jumbled verses,
fumbles and curses
the lone pen at hand,
then tumbles in a blind rage
over the jagged lines that cover a ragged page,
hurdled by words into an absurd
waste(paper)land . . .
as a lonely, mad poet stumbles,
in a daze, through a maze
of jumbled verses,
fumbles and curses
the lone pen at hand,
then tumbles in a blind rage
over the jagged lines that cover a ragged page,
hurdled by words into an absurd
waste(paper)land . . .
“down again
as I begin to
rise again
high again
as I begin to
fall again
why again?
as I begin to
try again
as I begin to
end again”
. . . and then, when
bound beyond bounds
beforeverafterwords,
very suddenly, he
utters a sigh, stutters,
and mutters a last cry,
“alas, once past . . .”
utterly lost as he
mumbles and grumbles,
still lying still
across the floor.
“. . . forever never ever more”
Copyright © 2005 Marco Alexandre de Oliveira
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