storm clouds

If this was my last poem…

If this was my last
poem, I should suffer
immeasurably.
I’d wake
late in the day-
there’d be nothing
in the early light
of collective awakening
to record in cursive letters.
I’d eventually lose
my sight
for irony and ecstasy
in the mundane, then
life would be perfectly
uninteresting.
The ream of used printer paper
recycled for blotted thoughts
would gather dust
and no more dreams.
This pen would be left
standing nib-up
in an old coffee mug,
until its ink dried. When
taken later to quickly scribble
an address or number
it would grate
angrily against
the grain.
I’d let my wrist
loose and jerk
the pen and the air
would be moved
to whip me.
I’d feel shame
for once
I had used this pen
as a whip.

 

Inspired by daily prompt: Last Words & my ongoing study of the Imagist free verse form.

Advertisements

36 thoughts on “If this was my last poem…”

    1. Oh my goodness! I get very awkward when praised so please don’t mind my silly replies. I am truly and greatly honoured by your supportive readership. It means a lot to my personal journey. You are one of a kind, love.

      Like

  1. I’d eventually lose
    my sight
    for irony and ecstasy
    in the mundane, then
    life would be perfectly
    uninteresting.

    A wordless WOW is my highest rating. I’m blown away by the truth of that stanza. What a magnificent poem.

    Liked by 1 person

Go for it! I know you want to.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s