Poem #142 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.
Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction
my world is held
within an arc
of the sky
sometimes
almost
I do not see it
I do not feel it
but the blue above
I know
is a curving dome
that loses the horizon
I cannot touch it
though I know
that it is there
I cannot strike it
with the stone I throw
propelled with all the wrath
an arm can hurl
one day
I’m going to break out
one day
I swear that I’ll be free
beyond the blue
beyond the arc
out there
I will encounter
no restrictions
no constraints
on me
© Frank Prem 2018
Bachelard and me Poem #143: reflected into a corner
Break the sky, little seed!
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Up is the only way, Chelsea!
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