It’s been months since the last time I have posted poetry here. and It’s been even longer since the last time I’ve written poetry seriously; as in poetry for poetry not poetry for self-therapy!
We all have issues and each of us deals with them on their own way. mine was writing, even though i was never good at it. It’s not a problem for me, I’m even fine with writing ungrammatically as long as I transfer something to paper. But there are also times when I become a sort of a perfectionist. That’s when it takes at least a week for me to finish up a poem! and I haven’t done that in a long time. I guess I got distracted by whatever life’s throwing at me which between us is a whole lot of nothing. Perhaps that’s exactly why! It’s the nothingness, the utter plainness of routine and total detachment from the time-flow. In fact, it’s more like a nothingness that’s extremely busy! It’s somewhere and somewhen you get lost in pallid tones of life.
I gotta tell you it’s a pretty bad time and space to exist in! Well, at least I’m not alone there. I have my words and I have my people (and coffee too!) That makes it bearable.
This poem’s taken from my Impromptu Poetry notebook. Now that I’m reading it after a few months it actually doesn’t make sense. Whatever! I’m sure it made perfect sense back when I wrote it.
Memories lost in misty veils of grey
Fading into darkness elegantly
Leaving only poignant pain
oscillating in a hollow heart
moments I can no longer name,
carried with them a person
the person I used to be
feelings are now a fringe frontier
I’m in a transition into a dominion of
Processed poetry and unknown knowns
What remains is a distorted face
That doesn’t remember its features.
Wassim Cherif © Impromptu Poetry 2016