imbalance

not an unsalvageable wreck
where claws scrabble silent and blind

learning should fit as cosy
as a favourite pair of old shoes
that think nothing of walking on water

a bobbing cork
sensitive to nibble and chance
dipping to where things are

delightfully accidental on streets
where grass leaves spontaneous paint on feet
and conversation with a chance-upon in a bar
flows instinctively true

those more than knowing
where the nearest internet café is
in a strange town and safe accommodation
well away from the poorest quarter

too far in cold directions wintering in books
i’m guilty of failing my passions
(though passions are where i play)
and could wish i’d been dropped on my head
as a child or had someone clobber me
from a height with the King James Bible
or more definitive yet an entire set
of Encyclopaedia Britannica

if time’s kind
i’ll coast to comic in-between
be a tongue in cheek dreammaker
and iconoclast like the braying WC Fields
juggling a blade and hacking a way
through fantastic walls of hostile flesh
dragging my literary canoe behind

30 thoughts on “imbalance

  1. Feeling we’ve failed our passions is, I suppose, the thread that weaves artists to a single fabric. Love that line. And, that last stanza is to die for.

  2. My favorite passage Uncle John is, “delightfully accidental on streets
    where grass leaves spontaneous paint on feet.” The artist in me imagines the scene with a colorful note!! All my best, have a wonderful weekend.

  3. The passion within the artistic persona is a romantic desire, a unique desire to learn, share, teach. It is possibly the most humane and principled of human characteristics. The only negative is being easily disappointed when we feel we have not excelled in that duty driven desire. An Introspective peek into a talented and compassionate artist John my friend. Remain exactly as you are, very special and appreciated by all you touch. Ever your friend, Jon Michael

  4. I adore this poem, it simply floats. And the idea of wintering in books is perfect. I can relate. Your style is wonderful, john

  5. You’re not dragging your literary canoe, you’re propelling it. And I, too, like
    a bobbing cork
    sensitive to nibble and chance
    dipping to where things are

  6. So many layers. You have it all dear John, so learned yet you have the ‘common touch’. You carry your great erudition lightly. You strike that balance without ‘dragging my literary canoe behind’. It slips alongside and ‘flows instinctively true’. I wish I could be as ‘sensitive to nibble and chance
    dipping to where things are’, as you do.

  7. ‘Dreammaker’ indeed John. You forever plant seeds of timeless expression.

    “delightfully accidental on streets
    where grass leaves spontaneous paint on feet
    and conversation with a chance-upon in a bar
    flows instinctively true…” …no airs would we speak

    So utterly divine.

    Warmest regards.

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