Where I live
When the fog comes
The fog comes hard
Rolling in like an endless army
Clogging the sky
Blocking out the sun
Playing its silver symphonies
Across the hills
Trapping you inside
With all your fears
With all your doubts
Lost to the world
An imposed oblivion
Weightless and
Timeless
Until the fog clears
The sun shines
I am reconnected
To the world
To the vast network of humanity
Where I feel most alone
thanks all for the kind comments. it gives me much needed confidence!
great stuff Stu. It is really the threat and challenge of individuality turned inward or not being received . The metaphor expresses it perfectly.
like this..the pace faster and desperate as you describe the fog. cool
Thanks david. I have suffered from the big 'D' for many years, possibly all of them, and it has only been the last years or so i have sought help. I have found poetry to be the best therapy I can get. its a form of cerebral emetic unlike anything else.
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Travis Brow
Fri 3rd Jul 2015 09:54
Brilliant pay off Stu, didn't see it coming.
You describe the writing of poetry as a 'cerebral emetic' which is, in itself, a fine phrase.