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
needed

a need that grew
left no room
for peace

agitation

pushing

restlessness

he grew
inside
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
beside
as well

each looked
each saw
no resemblance
at all

turned
and moved
away


© Frank Prem 2017

Bachelard and me Poem #53: haven

2 thoughts on “he is not the same

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.