the plane of the poet

Poem #187 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

I tried to reach up
to touch his robe

stretch on toes
much as I liked
he was always
a little bit

a one-step
from the storeroom
I made myself
thirty centimetres

but reach as I could
and wave both my hands
he was always
a little bit

the old chair
in the kitchen

I brought it
right under that man
and I clambered on up
but the depth
somehow deceived
and I found he remained
a bit

I placed my one-step
onto the kitchen chair
and I dragged myself
up the first
then again
up on the other

and from this very lofty perch
I surveyed
all around my world
I found he was
a little bit

© Frank Prem 2018

Bachelard and me Poem #188: from the tower

2 thoughts on “the plane of the poet

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