Too Firmly Planted?

I just read a poem. A beautiful poem
that makes no sense, yet it does.
The kind that bypasses your brain,
goes straight to the solar plexus.
I want to make poetry like that,
get my feet off the ground,
sail into the ether, where there is no up nor down.
But I seem to be cursed with too much reason.
My cerebral cortex is too thick to
let the stuff of dreams leak through,
my grip on reality too tight.
I think it’s because I hear the
clock ticking my life away.
That’s why I like my feet on
the ground, my Tupperware in order,
my bed made.
I want to fly into space
without leaving earth.


About boomergirl47

Retired from the University of South Florida. Love reading, writing, hiking, nature, music, birding, puttering around the house and yard.
This entry was posted in beauty, death, emotions, human interest, poetry, psychology, senior citizens, spirituality. Bookmark the permalink.

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