he is not the same

Poem #52 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

he felt him
as a kind
of inner pressure

like a knot
a hard ball
of something that

a need that grew
left no room
for peace




he grew
until he felt bigger
than he was

until he
was pushed aside
and squeezed
while he broke out

and then he was there
standing beside

and he was there
as well

each looked
each saw
no resemblance
at all

and moved

© Frank Prem 2017

Bachelard and me Poem #53: haven

2 thoughts on “he is not the same

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