Richard Evans Poet Free verse

Plot

oh that wretched hand 
keeps pulling me to one side
I cannot see, but feel comfortable going 
where there is no direction

blinking eyes mean nothing here 
things are the same opened or closed
one step after another, the stubbing of toes 
for all I know the same dog 
has bitten me thrice

everything looks the same 
smells the same, taste the same
dammit I’m not even sure what I’m after 
but I cannot stop moving

oh there goes another stubbed toe
and this one appears to be bleeding 
or is that maple syrup
this way, this way, this way, always this way
where on earth is the exit door

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Darlene De Beaulieu March 18, 2018 at 11:13 AM Hello Richard Evans, i get that. Sometimes I do not know where I am going either. have a nice day my friend. Richard Evans March 18, 2018 at 5:29 PM Darlene thank you for your support. Have a great day.

Thresha Reese December 4, 2017 at 3:14 PM Speaking of figurative language. I like this poem.The flow of non literal events in time-not time ...going where there is no direction blinking eyes mean nothing here things are the same opened or closed one step after another the stubbing of toes... Excellent. Great tittle also and that you omitted capital letters and punctuation. I totally get it. Richard Evans December 4, 2017 at 8:31 PM Thank you lady for the kind words. That darn E.E. Cummings has definitely had an effect on me.

Edward Mccall December 2, 2017 at 7:15 PM stubbing of toes what a great metaphor for life's stumbling blocks. great job on this Richard. Richard Evans December 4, 2017 at 8:15 PM I was trying to write a screenplay and became frustrated. This poem is my feelings towards that very challenging art form.

Silent One November 17, 2017 at 12:46 PM This is deep, I hope someone hears your cry and understands your fears.. Well expressed Richard.. Thresha Reese December 4, 2017 at 3:15 PM it's the angst Richard Evans November 18, 2017 at 12:11 AM S.O. this poem was different for me in that it seemed like a stream of consciousness. It damned near scared me.

Patricia Cresswell November 16, 2017 at 12:37 PM Many questions formed as I read your poem, I like that. Patricia Cresswell November 17, 2017 at 9:42 PM Yes I do, very much. Richard Evans November 17, 2017 at 12:46 PM Pat you're not going to believe this but I was trying to write a sonnet but the darn poem wouldn't cooperate. Don't you just love when that happens?

Eileen Manassian November 12, 2017 at 3:34 PM The exit door....surely not to life itself, but to a hopeless situation. This poem is expressive of angst...Stubbed toes and all, one must keep moving head. Thank you for your visit to my poem. Blessings Richard Evans November 17, 2017 at 12:43 PM Eileen the pursuit of poetry can sometimes lead to a stubbed toe. Thanks for stopping bye....................peace!