Andrew John Poet Free verse

Broken Brain

Reflected light is shimmering here,
finding me floundering in my fluff,
gazing at this shattered glass
as I dance, dance away, away.

I cut my bare toes - 
sixty steps to the minute,
those sixty seconds, sixty seconds:
click-click, tick-tock, bop-bop.

Your shine dims like a dull, dull dime
in my battered brain, seeing the blood
on my toes, as they dance, prance
on the shattered shimmering glass.

A battered brain is shapeless stuff
that lets me flounder in my fluff.
The shattered brain sees shattered glass.
They'll take this tumour away.

Will humour return, humanity remain,
once I've danced, pranced
for those surgical folk in masks
who'll take knives to my brain?


(6/7 Feb 2023)

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Harry Horsman March 7, 2023 at 8:02 PM a poem of a serious illness, i wonder John, have wrote myself poems on this subject..Interesting and gives one concern, so the poem has the power to hold, the reader. Andrew John March 8, 2023 at 2:49 AM Thank you, Harry.

Nancy Kaufman February 28, 2023 at 8:13 AM "a battered brain is a shapeless brain that lets me flounder in my fluff", very graphic write. I do hope it's all in the past tense now if it was a personal experience and that you are on the way to healing and dancing and prancing again? Andrew John March 8, 2023 at 2:51 AM Yes, largely Yours Truly. Three and a half years ago. They took my brain out and put sawdust in. Well . . . I do feel changes in way brain works, and possibly - hopefully - for the better. Weird feelings, changes. Wooh!

Andrea Dietrich February 26, 2023 at 10:03 AM very unique poetry, John. I sure hope I never need brain surgery! Andrew John March 8, 2023 at 2:51 AM Thank you, Andrea.