A Poem by William Rousseau

Free verse


My thoughts stream endlessly, running through continents

like the satellite states of the Soviet Empire.

Nestled in the comfort of dreams of tomorrow,

I break with the present, in an unkempt mind.

My memories lay scattered, like an apartment

of an old poet who grew up in the Silent Age.


One runs to another, with no apparent direction.

Is this a dream, or is it fantasy?

Brief flashes shock the dormant conscience,

like the vision of Paul, as he rode to Damascus.

Once confident, but now inspired;

spontaneous jazz maestro scatting Godly verses.


To follow the heart, is to follow aphorisms

constructed in haste, with no deliberation.

Much as Augustus constructed an empire

destined to falter in imperial tatters,

thoughts and poems are constructed haphazardly,

lacking precision when running in streams.


Virtue sparks hope, our proud possession.

It reigns above, like the peak of the Pyrenees,

whose terrain shelters the Iberian Peninsula.

Ancient kingdoms could not reach splendors,

concocted by shadows casted by the specter

of a staccato melody played by memories.


Will there be an end to the beginning,

in this life with no point of return?

Only words provide the answer

the body craves from the cradle to the grave.

Lost in translation, resolution is muddled

by ancestral delusions; a world with no ending.


© 2018 William Rousseau

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Added on June 6, 2018
Last Updated on June 6, 2018
Tags: Free, Verse, Poem, Spontaneous, Random, Feelings, Thoughts, Life, Return, Beginning, Sudden, Poetry


William Rousseau
William Rousseau

Chicago, IL

I enjoy writing in my free time. That sums things up. more..