Scribbler Of Verses Poet I do not know?

My Madness, Me

My Madness, Me...


Confined by this straight-jacket,
strapped in, numb and dumbed,
a washed-out, has-been, also-ran,

body, eyes, the equilibrium of mind,
rattling like stones in an old tin-can.


Still, I am, 

I am,

and I am unchained,

my dreams taking flight, soaring,
above these claustrophobic walls,
of synapses, and dungeons of stone,

swooping through green valleys,
taking a detour to savour the joys,

soaked in torrential, evergreen memories,
of a younger man, with passion in his bone.

I am.

My wings unclipped, unshackled, free,

I am, and though I am unable to see,

I am.

At long last,

me...

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Joanna Smith March 26, 2013 at 10:14 AM I loved this poem. Isnt it wonderful to be able to be 100% your own person. Free and uncarring about the things that hold you back. Strong phrasing here a beautiful way to describe an epiphany. Scribbler Of Verses March 26, 2013 at 10:24 AM Thank you so much, Joanna, for your generous and kind words. Yes, it is wonderful to be who we are, devoid of all the excess baggage that so often weighs us down. I must confess however, that I am still striving :-) I suppose that is part of the journey itself. Thanks again, and have a lovely day :-)