Inconversant (a poem)
standing amidst traffic,
cars on each side,
the wind spins me around.
standing amidst traffic,
cars on each side,
the wind spins me around.
Constantly,
you made me question myself.
Relentlessly,
you told me I was not enough.
The promise kept them,
hope sustained them,
every day a little less.
everything is here
for but a moment
like a whisper
half-spoken
nearly existing
vanishing
in the soft light
of a new day
Scents of countless delicacies combine.
Enticements abounding.
Sounding china and silver sit atop the din.
Conversation flourishing.
The dream lost,
unraveled, unwritten,
to aether went,
in a moment forgotten.
Eternal the cost.
The poet’s palette,
an ocean of words.
She covers the canvas,
with notions absurd.
Blame the speed limit for the ticket,
the intersection when it’s run,
and the law for the crime.
Blame the bullet for the war,
the knife for the cut,
and the stone for the corpse.
Inspired I write.
Tired I sleep.
Stressed I can’t.
Lonely I weep.
Enabled I do.
Afraid I don’t.
Excited I thrive.
Ordered I won’t.
The beauty of a rose,
wrapped tight within the vines,
upon my trellis waiting,
just waiting for her time.
Bursting open, petals stretch
unto the light of day.
Exploding colors all around,
for Spring has come to stay.
© 2009-2026 E.L. Redwine