Sitting

Sitting with feelings
A room with four walls
Cracked plaster ceiling
From which the dust falls

Frightened paralysis
Manic discord
Dark hiding hole
Or a fleeting reward

Give it a night
Then give it a day
Give it a week
When there’s naught left to say

Taste disappointment
Which spoils my cup
Spirits are down
But I’ll keep my head up

Ever long we amble
Ensnared by destiny
Endless little outcomes
Yet our will is free

Now the door is open
The walls disintegrate
I sit beside a river of thoughts
I’ll need to contemplate

About This Poem

Style/Type: Structured: Western

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - draft

About the Author

Region, Country: U.S.A., USA

Favorite Poets: Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, Walt Whitman. I’m enamored by the work of lyricists such as Robert Hunter, John Barlow, John Dyer Baizley, and Tom Marshall just to name a handful.

Comments

Lavender

2 years 4 months ago

Sitting

Hi, Tim,
When reading your poem, I feel as if I'm sitting through a storm - and then it peacefully passes. Very affecting.
Thanks,
L

Leslie

2 years 4 months ago

Sitting

I loved this because it causes me to reflect on my own struggles in life. Isn't this just the way life goes, especially
when you are chronically ill?

Geezer

2 years 4 months ago

Yeah...

I know the feeling well. A very articulate piece here. I sense the discord and the need for peace. This port is always open in any storm. ~ Geez.
.

Candlewitch

2 years 4 months ago

dearest Tim,

should I worry? you know you can vent to me, I hope?

these lines:

Now the door is open
The walls disintegrate
I sit beside a river of thoughts
I’ll need to contemplate

they resonate.

*hugs, Cat & eddy

RoseBlack

2 years 4 months ago

The need to contemplate

This poem resonates...I seem to find myself doing a lot of that these. Another brilliantly written poem! Well done!