Dream X

Dream X

the poet dreams

landscapes of barren poems

the words just dust 

of yesterday's foregone conclusions

tightly constructed into 

severed lines

waking

just before the punctuation

is added

as afterthought

the poet lunges at an imaginary alarm

as his fingers shut off the keys

he can no longer hear

inspiration in his subconscious

he is a realist

dealing in literal fact

his figurative alignment

is causing his tired tires

to lose tread

he cannot stick to the road of ideas

on which he once traveled

his bygone days of talent

took the other path

his mind did not.

erin-cilberto

4/2/24

Reviews

[poetgurl (Plainly Meg)]

At first I thought about a poet losing his touch after not coming up with an idea what to write.
in your last couple stanza's I maybe see it could be about a car. Maybe losing grip.
This is a wonderful write, intriguing at that. Wonderful

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Metaphorically, yes.
Thank you, poetgurl.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

It is difficult to find inspiration and be creative when events in the real world totally put boulders in the way. My muse is elsewhere at the moment. The tread on my tyres are well and truly worn. I no longer recognize the country of my birth. My mind is fighting change. I don’t want to go with the flow. I see danger ahead. Dear j, that’s where I travel. Poets with no poems. How sad is that.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I think I am a poet with no poems these days.
j.