Wednesday, April 4, 2018


I try to explain
The map spread before us
The words catch in my throat
I hear the words uttered
It is complicated
Hard to explain
Cannot be put into a few simple words
It is the story of everyone
Nothing is simple
Beginning to end
Wrapped around a lilac bush
Knotted at every turn
The downhill slide is rusted
The merry-go-round doesn’t
The words come slowly
Then long pauses
It is an interrogation
The bright light in my face
You want to know
You want to understand
But it is complicated

April 4, 2018


Kerry O'Connor said...

It is the story of everyone
Nothing is simple
Beginning to end...

I think this sums up the notion of poetry very well indeed.

Anonymous said...'s not though is it?

Sherry Marr said...

It is complicated - which words to choose that will be exactly right. But somehow they come and turn into a wonderful poem like yours.

Anonymous said...

I love that line "the map spread between us". We each make our own map, see and choose our own path, and yes, it is complicated. But, I wonder, would we really want it otherwise? A smoother road, less of a climb? It might be easier, but also maybe boring? Some of those high points are exhilarating.


Please post this at Waiting on Words

Anonymous said...

Annell, I agree with Elizabeth. The highs are wonderful and the lows are inevitable. Excellent use of the word - complicated.


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