‘Journey’ – A Poetic Continuance

melbourne-grey-winter-morning-panorama-cold-loking-over-walk-bridge-towards-city-centre-lots-clouds-56378172

[Image sourced from dreamstime]

At the start of last year, I undertook the task of revivifying my tendency to verse scribblings with Poetic Beginnings, thanks to the (quite literally) free flowing musical influence of Spotify.  Each poem was (for the most part) titled as each inspirational song and, now that newly born 2016 has come round, I thought it apt to once more undergo such a task; not because I need another push into poetry (indeed, 2015 was quite stable in a rhythm of ongoing output of this kind), but for a ‘refreshing’, if you will.  Obviously, this being the second year, the process can no longer be classed a ‘beginning’.  Therefore, I hope you’ll accept, rather, a ‘continuance’.

To (free form) poesy.

[Inspired by LRKR’s “Journey” (please see Spotify’s Mellow Beats playlist if, like me, you cannot access the YouTube video in your country):]

A not so dull ache,

reminder of deeds done

(not able to be undone),

woke him, slumberous shuttered eyes

opened to another grey dawn

of humdrum, of groundhog day mentality.

A reality

he couldn’t seem to escape,

no matter how long he slept,

suspended in a dreamscape:

sweet nebulous lands devoid

of concerns substantial.

Heavy arm lifting dead weight

of hand to face to wipe away

dust of dormancy, his yawn

ends in a sighing that only marks

the beginning of a day’s worth of

identical drowsy (and nervous) actions.

He was falling, everyday,

falling like the perpetual rain

plummets to the earth, gathers, masses,

and rushes, falling down the drains to wash

into greater, filthy body of the sewers –

and out to sea:

a final, poisoned outcome, spreading.

A promise tainted and doomed

to fail/fall – like he was;

like he had.

Only thing to do now

was paste a smile on his empty face,

grey as the morning: best not

alert the outer world to another

broken soul; broken by himself,

by what he’d done.

What a fool, but a fool

with the brightest set of pearly whites

to bite into the day to come.

To them, a suited shark; underneath,

a hunted man.

[Copyright © N R Nolan 2016]