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Saturday, September 1, 2012

The Blunders


The Blunders are guests in this house
who live all around me
They touch my hair
They stroke my hands
but mostly they just rattle around
like a marble in a tin can
alerting my soldier mind
of their forage into my territory

Often, they come in the dark
in dreams
strange allegories blended
with the pinpoints of stars
and wisps of smoke and dew
as hard as I might try
I cannot get them to leave
They are embroidered on my clothes
and often sneak beneath my skin

The older I get the more annoying
they become
all of them are the child's mind
I once possessed
when I'd just as soon forget
them at the side of a country road
an unwanted pet wandering
without the love of family

Oh, don't think of me as cruel
they have taught me morality
patience of thought and deed
the importance of passing time
and distant colors I'd thought were gray
but come back to blaze
through my thoughts
fires burning out of control
I only want doused
but no, they don't put out
they put me out and I am annoyed
by their constant caresses


Copyright 2012 (c) by Barry G. Wick



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