When walls are moving towards their corners,
When floor rises from a thousand fathoms below,
And ceiling is one unblinking eye;
Then mind begins to snow.
It drifts about the cupboard nooks,
Settles with tealeaves at teacup’s end,
Then like flies swarming over putrid fruits,
Scours the floor for butt-ends.
And bumps into moths dropping scales.
Licks polished surfaces!
Marches with ants to cat’s dish.
Rubs cat the wrong way, is electrified—magnetised,
Adheres to the wall like a piece of fluff.
When it is tired the mind
Pours to the floor in a heap,
Gives to charity the useless things it finds,
Holds on for dear life the useless things it keeps.
Pilgrim
,
9 months ago
Strangely moving and insightful. It left me perplexed but not uncomofortably so. A strong and ineresting journey.
Hop Dac
,
9 months ago
thanks, martin. this poem was written a few years ago now, as an art student. this is what happens when you don’t eat properly.
Deon de Waal, 9 months ago
The first line of this is really an excellent image. It immediately attracted my attention.
I really enjoyed this poem. It has some really stunning images in it.
I must admit it is rather confusing as to its meaning but i think this might be part of the intention?
Jessica Tremp, 6 months ago
this is fantastic Hop…i love the picture you’ve created
Silvia Manuela, 3 months ago
This is an excellent piece which describes it so well.