Drop me a comment on this new poem below (and/or the new one above).
All soles, mighty, stock-still
sufferingly glued to the ground.
A sudden sense of the metaphysical,
acknowledged; unwillingly quizzical,
rigid, fearful. Muted sound.
Such a wonderful word!
Inspiring dexterity of the tongue,
demanding understanding – immobility of nightmares.
Whereupon awake, drookit with sweat, into it stares.
Embrace physical disability, no longer young.
Fear of fear itself,
a reason by which not to move at all?
Rooted inactivity, unintentionally profound,
this voyage of privilege has run aground.
Eternal stasis, preparing to fall.