By John R. Greenwood
delusion haunts me every waking hour and then the hours beyond
as the years collide I wonder where the search will end or if?
what waits there, where illusion and delusion collide
like battling brothers whose minds can't agree
listening at every corner with eyes open sky-wide
the taste of sweet corn makes me smile
never sure what train I'm on
or if I belong at all, I remain un-still and restless
photographs tell me what to write
the pens stalls and wanders off as if dementia riddled
another night falls asleep, quietly begging for forgiveness
for all it's bravery - what is, really isn't
The lines between delusion, illusion and reality seem very flexible when it comes to poetry. I thought it was very interesting how the poem states that pictures tell you what to write, and your picture is upside down.
ReplyDeleteThe older I grow the more I write from pictures. In my mind, from other lips, the occasional old photo. Sometimes a photo I wish I could find again. All the corners do blend.
ReplyDeleteI too write from photos new and old. In fact I am going through tons of old photos right now trying to organize them and it seems I see a passing story with each -- enjoyed -- barbara
ReplyDeleteWhat waits where illusion and delusion collide? I think the answer we will never find.
ReplyDeleteReally love this one.