It has been a LONG time since I've written poetry. As is evident from the course of my annual collections, my OCD-spurred 250/year pace ebbed away towards the end of the millenium, with the last of the "easily found" works being in 2001 (I really, really, hope that I didn't lose those later ones like I did all my early poems in the hideous extremes of last year's move). There was a time when I put what I was writing here (along with long-since-disappeard audio files), but the most recent one I could find (via the "poetry" tag - I'm very lax at tagging my posts) was from November 2006, but not posted until April 2007.
Anyway, I noted over on FB that I had, indeed, written a new poem, and there was a minor clamor (my audience is in the dozens, so there's never much of an uproar) to actually see this remarkable confluence of ASCII characters. And, here it is (behind a cut tag ... click on the little "v"):
THE TITLE TO OUR VOID
1
an echo,
a dare,
a resonance formed
of convolutions
in threads of time,
surging currents
deep beneath the surface
of unending storms
2
without a will,
denied the drive,
something impels,
makes motive,
presses into zones
long sealed beyond these walls;
exuding fear,
screaming silent
3
all things change
but nothing does,
the nightmare is static,
underlying every age
with displacement,
frustration,
and liminal rending
of every seam
4
somehow
we find a shore,
an edge transition
between the was
and the not yet,
the line disturbs us,
an abomination
that should not be
5
what this has
is without herald,
the dam decays
and floods proceed
down long-forgotten channels,
we stare in horror,
unwilling to cede
the title to our void
- Brendan Tripp
04/23/2019
Copyright © 2019 by Brendan Tripp
