Something Else
Desiring it is not the key, just the archway.
Knowing it is not the key, just the door.
Believing it is not the key, just the latch.
Seeking it is not the key, just the keyhole.
There is no key.
Until you create it.
In a way nobody else has ever imagined.
It is time, yes?
Something Else belongs to the following groups:
All Things Poetic, Artistic, Philosophical and The Word TreeMy knees scrape upon it.
I thrust my toes deep.
My hands quest into it.
Grasping, delving, desiring, yearning.
...
Kneading. Else.
Hope and desperation war within me.
Trepidation and inspiration permeate my core.
My soul descends into it.
I search, I sink, I give, I scream.
...
Pleading. Else.
I sense it all around me, incarnate.
It tantalises and stings the fingers in my brain.
My essence succumbs to it.
Looking, listening, sniffing, shuffling.
...
Speeding. Else.
Why won’t it reveal to me?
Does it care that I want it, crave it, so?
Do you comprehend I am the one?
Earning, healing, believing, balancing.
...
Teasing. Else.
Yet there it is and brushes me.
And billows my dreams by night.
It isn’t fair that I can’t touch it.
I’m dextrous, I’m worthy, I’m fair, I’m deserving.
...
Pleasing. Else.
I hate this shadowy barrier in my mind.
Just grant me one ounce more reach.
So that I can touch this omnipotence I know.
And become once more, again, yet, forever.
...
Something. Else.
Lisa Jewell
I’m not sure which I enjoy more, the poem or your description……
The last stanza (WOW)
“I hate this shadowy barrier in my mind.
Just grant me one ounce more reach.
So that I can touch this omnipotence I know.
And become once more, again, yet, forever.
...
Something. Else.”
Is indeed something else…
How I understand that desire of wanting just a bit more stretch in my reach…
Gorgeous work, Baf XO
MissKristy
Ohhh Baf…your words still set my soul on fire. Like Lisa though, I loved the description just as much as the poem itself. I could eat this poem right up. Mmm.
LilyMunroe
just what I needed this morning, your words have woken me heart again to the possibility of rebirth, to lift my eyes to that something else. And it was indeed a shadowy morning. 1 week until spring!
Suzanne German
very well written and as usual a joy to read and experience your literary style Brett!