BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

Oh, look ... POEMS ... one of nine

Well, I finally got some time to work on the now HUGE backlog of poems that I've scribbled but not transcribed. As it was, I had 9 from September, about 17 from October, and the half a dozen or so I've written in November so far. It takes me about 15 minutes per poem to get them typed up, then a while more for each to file and get them ready for posting, so this becomes a big scary project very quickly. It turns out that I only got those nine from September done today. Maybe more tomorrow, if I can squeeze out the time.

                    PAPER ON WINDS

                    caught within chaos,
                    stuck in this storm,
                    we have no means to shift
                    the context or frame,
                    we have no way to steer
                    to pass by the blast,
                    no route to safety,
                    no path to clear
                    lost amid loss,
                    cast down into depths,
                    no focus remains
                    nor shred of intent;
                    we are paper on winds,
                    flotsam on waves,
                    tossed and scattered,
                    unable to be
                    where we reach
                    in zones of blindness
                    can not be told
                    until events
                    collapse the query
                    for good or ill
                    turning the wheel
                    left to our fate
                    damned to this failure
                    of systems, of dreams,
                    no place to resume
                    what we would so need
                    to extract from days
                    and wring out of night,
                    no way to recover
                    the essence we've lost
                    broken down, damaged
                    nothing remains
                    to mend or to heal;
                    aligning with law
                    all falls to decay,
                    growing greyer and vaguer,
                    sadder and bitter,
                    swimming in bile

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp

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