From a Crinkled Piece of Paper

P1020480

From a Crinkled Piece of Paper

 
There must be something in the water
Their eyes are too far apart…
Some are too close together…
Some of them looking almost normal
But not quite…
They speak in rhymes like they have good sense
But there are few who really understand
The meaning of their words…
 
Are they philosophical geniuses of reason
Or idiots speaking jibberish about nothing?
I’ve heard they even have their own corner
Where they actually can be seen gathering…
Sometimes in broad daylight…
 
If you saw one in an alleyway
You would possibly be concerned for your well-being,
The beards and funny hats that they often wear…
Talking to themselves as if someone were standing next to them
 
If you ever see one on a bench in the park
They usually appear to be in some sort of bewilderment
As if pondering life as a human being…
Or perhaps… conceptualizing life as something else…
 
Most of them are hermits, recluses, introverts
Shy beyond any normal accounting…
In fact, possessing very little within themselves
That would appear to have any sense of normalcy…
They do not understand nor do they wish
To assimilate that which is of the ordinary…
 
But they are truly a peaceful bunch…
They speak of love, of life, of sadness
Of truths of the universe and of realities…
Often contributing greatly
To philosophical understandings…
Yet, they mostly are incapable of accepting
The full sense of reality…
For they prefer to dwell elsewhere…
 
Even the person next to me now has expressed her concern
For what this member of that group is writing…
Asking… “Where is this going?”
Knowing that it most commonly
Will journey into nowhere…
 
There is a large number of us residing on this planet…
We dwell in the shadows…
We linger in the sunset…
We often await the crimson of the dawn…
Our oddly formed and often un-normal words
Have been known to find their way
Onto the pages of time…
Where they will remain for eternity…
To touch someone’s heart…
Or to inspire their thoughts…
To enlighten their souls…
To cause them to linger within a world beyond their own…
Or perhaps to escape the one that haunts them…
 
But we will forever be…
And everyone can find us…
Lingering amongst the shelves…
Lying sleepily on coffee tables…
Within the pages of notebooks of all colors…
On crinkled pieces of paper
Lying in the stillness of a waste basket…
Even along the edges of a coffee stained napkin…
And everyone knows who we are…
For we are the poets…

Copyright © 2015 All Rights Reserved…

Michael33

Advertisements

15 thoughts on “From a Crinkled Piece of Paper

    • Good evening Laine – Good to hear from you again. Yes, it is a hard thing to say and I utter it only in the greatest of humbleness, but I believe that we are all poets, for I find some of the most beautiful poetry in the paintings of others, in the words of stories people tell us, within the sadness, the joy, the pain, the beauty of the thoughts of others. I find amazing poetry by looking out my window at a single sparrow. I’ve read everything on your site… I find all of this and more within your writing as well. I can only hope that the inspiration that you received is at least equal to the encouragement you have given me through your comments…
      Hope your evening is most beautiful…
      Michael

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thank you, Michael. I feel honored by your kind words. I tutor in the evenings, and tonight forgetting my reading glasses did not make for a smooth night. It made me happy, and yes, inspired to see your comments when I arrived home. I appreciate your time to read my blog extensively. In my mind that is an ultimate compliment. A beautiful evening to you as well – Laine

        Like

    • Thank you Sue – This was one of those that was just fun to write. I kind of got started and couldn’t quit. I’m certainly glad you enjoyed it.
      Hope your evening is quite enlightening…
      Namasté
      Michael

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Tears. Not sadness – not really joy either … the feeling that comes when you really connect. When you know you’ve been heard and understood. This one does that for me. Lot of truth hidden in these lines. The last lines — like a flower opening to reveal its delicate insides. To release its intoxicating aroma. “For we are the poets” … wow.

    Like

Please... Tell me what's on your mind

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