Pop

Sometimes the words flow

Like a stream

Like the confidence you feel in a dream

But sometimes you clutch

And grab

Give it all you have

They crumble at the touch

Prove false

Words fall away

Give way to futile attempts

To save

What might have been

Ideas, thoughts

Random flashes of insight

Colliding with brute reality

Like doing the dishes

While lost in thought

Soap bubble babble

At least the plates are clean

Tonight

 

 

David Trudel   © 2012

 

 

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2 Comments

Filed under Poetry

2 responses to “Pop

  1. Yeah, I’ve been there before. Days when everything clicks and days when nothing comes at all.

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