A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Friday, May 27, 2016

run

You remember this,
from a thousand dreams
- but it's always real.
So suddenly you're back, this scene:
comes horribly true, just like
you always tried to make it seem,
and play, and feel. This time,

it's live.

Like every time, you try
to find your way, and through. Same
conflict, motivation, arc - each stage
unfolds unmercifully apace. The only part
that fits is you, because you're trapped in it.
You can't get out. You're killing every house
you ever had. The curtain calls go on for nights,
and no one knows if this year's smash hit show
was ever written to be
this sad.

Least of all, the crowd.
Not a dry eye in the place.
The critics are all amateurs.
They're doing it for love because
they hate to let on: they have no taste.

As this year's smash hit show goes on
its record-breaking run, we know:
ten years ago, it was the same
verbatim, line for line, for fun.
It played as uplift, triumph, feel-good
inspiration piece.

And then, a comedy.
And finally now, we weep.
Its truest sense is wrung,
and cut, so dry your eyes,

my love,

you are released.

No comments: