Friday, August 3, 2012

Cataplexy

It has been too long - still, sometimes the creative river suffers drought too (how pretentious is that!) - if writing is a habit, a routine, a drive, then perhaps I am truly paralysed in plundering forth... Still, occasionally, an inkling takes hold. An idea formulates. The pen touches paper... and I remind myself that I am capable. If nothing else.

Drop me a comment on this new poem below (and/or the new one above).

CATAPLEXY


All soles, mighty, stock-still
sufferingly glued to the ground.
A sudden sense of the metaphysical,
acknowledged; unwillingly quizzical,
rigid, fearful. Muted sound.

Cataplexy.

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.

Cataplexy.

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.

Cataplexy.

PO

2 comments:

  1. I enjoyed the rhythm of this entry. Very melodic.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks for your feedback, Harper. Much appreciated.

    ReplyDelete