Below is the poem entitled The Ones That Get Away which was written by poet
Roberts. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
Read Poems by
The best ideas come to me when driving or asleep
I often have an out of body chuckle
as during the eureka moment I look down and see myself w/
one hand on the wheel the other
frantically digging in the back seat of the car in search of
a pen, a purpose, or my notebook with the snoopy stickers . . .
whichever comes first
In the midst of this confusion
the phone begins its siren song from some location
Southwest of my foot
Thinking this could actually be someone, everyone - anyone
I drop my pen begin to search
but no one is there
kind of like my life
Oh but when I’m asleep things are different . . .
When asleep, I know restless rest of the damned
Those in daylight held back from true knowledge of man
Inspiration waits just by the palm of my hand
To thumb a ride with me up out of dreamland
Deep conscious-filled concepts - like e-mail spam
Give me hope that I am not a poetic ham
They ache in my soul, till before you I stand
With this song in my mouth and my heart in my hand
They wait with great patience for me to wake up
And dispense knowledge that waking doubts can’t corrupt
Stir emotions, feelings, dreams, disrupt
Status quo, preconceived notions, closed minds and such
But It’s over the limit - becoming too much
I turn I twist wrestling with ideas I clutch
The tail end of a mind-blowing image of such
A unfathomable concept, there’s just not enough
Time to develop before the abrupt
Sound of my clock says it time to get up
(I gotta’ have something to write down this stuff!)
A recorder, a notebook, it’s getting quite rough
To remember the concepts that followed me through
The entire night so I’d bring them to you
Wait. A cat with a hat - a ball in the hall . . .
Was it really that simple? Was that really all?
There has to be more, I remember it well
I dreamed of a poem as savvy as hell!
It was deeply poetic, insightful as well.
Could fix the whole world in the places it ails but
I just can’t recall it . . . my memory fails
Ideas also come when sitting quietly at my desk
There I sit in peace
writing poems that are not in the form of car hieroglyphics
rare thoughts that sometimes make sense
and would make me happy
If my nose didn't burn with the exhaust
of all the ones that got away