Boredom Poem by Doris Cornago
Boredom
Boredom creeps on my mind
blots white gleaming surface
like a guitar which idly waits
Strings taut, fingers aching
A dripping faucet, incessant
A pile of paper thrown by wind.
When I reflect on what you are
or what you are making me to be
I cease being creative and
turn destructive, hammering
on faucet but wouldn't cease
or play guitar to finally ease.
Such ignominy to hopelessly seek
Or draw strength from dry bones
clacking a dance to a tuneless song
Slowly singing a mournful dirge
Watching shadows cast upon four walls
Escape is not an option, nor derision.
I agree, relationships are not perfect especially when your love and care for the person is not reciprocated, boredom comes in... but then love and care transcend beyond the limits of human understanding, thus excites poetic explosion!
I agree, relationships are not perfect especially when your love and care for the person is not reciprocated, boredom comes in... but then love and care transcend beyond the limits of human understanding, thus excites poetic explosion!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 7:59:42 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Hi Marvin. Nice to see an old friend again. I knew from the start that a relationship from a detached philosopher will turn out this way. We do not share the same platform of detachment which he says is nearer to heaven than an emotional landscape. Do you think so? I hope that you will be with me on this. Can you make poems based only on thinking, and not on feeling?