Raison D'Etre

I live for the dream of hell to pay

and better words to arraign each thought;

alas, Dunning-Kruger bars my way

and up my tongue gets tied. Options float -

 

teasingly, playing peek-a-boo-you,

buckling swash through my jaded mind's eye,

first dancing into, then out of view -

leaving me clutching as straws flit by.

 

It's like the end of the Crystal Maze

where banknotes swirl in great profusion,

my thoughts flailing in a giddy haze,

a babbling sack of confusion.

 

All I ask here's one luckier streak,

a purple patch of requisite strength,

and once the inspiration, to speak

what's on my mind, lucidly, at length -

 

a fair expression of faith from me -

and have it mean something for someone,

to be my logos, a legacy

that swears, 'ecce poet' ere I'm gone.

◄ SONNET: MY MATE MARK RIP (1956 – 92) 

A Life (1897-1980) ►

Comments

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Martin Peacock

Sat 18th May 2019 20:13

Thank you very much, afishamongmany. I've just this morning redrafted it (4th time around) and though it's turned out a bit more obliquely than I'd been trying for, I think it'll grow on me. I'm really glad you like it too. That means a lot to me.

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afishamongmany

Sat 18th May 2019 12:48

Ritchie - an interesting poem. I liked it though I had to come at it several times before getting into the room. It was looking up 'Dunning-Kruger' that turned the key. I'm sure it will contribute to your legacy 😀
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