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I am lost in my own murky mind,
a thick and balmy jungle teeming
with tiny parasites. I find
myself confined without
a compass, nor a sun beaming
its guiding light on me. I doubt
I will find my way, but still
I cut the overreaching
branches -- alien hands poised to scratch and kill
with sticky leaves dripping venom and bile --
clearing a path, to where I don't know...
The fog is dense and the vile
stench of dung worsens with rain.
I stumble in a puddle and notice
the moon's reflection, disappearing again
as the darkening clouds meet the mist.
A silence blankets everything
and muffles my cries, numbs my clenched fists.
I am trapped in my own murky mind,
a thick and balmy jungle with no exit.
An idea I jotted down ages and ages ago. Finally came to fruition. and then revised.
Started off as a terza rima, but became more flexible. ;) aba, cdc, efe etc.
underwaterlily Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2009
You make form poems seem effortless and non-stilted!
nepasavaler Featured By Owner Feb 3, 2009
Thank you! I love working with forms - i think they help me work more on rhythm and meter. An old classmate of mine used to say, Find the freedom within the form!
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Submitted on
January 18, 2009
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