Short Regressed Poems

Regressing to the mean

Mortality seemed "out there", a long climb; 
A somewhen to think about another time,
A cloudiness too distant from my prime.
Too quickly have I regressed to the mean
And my end time no longer a dream. 

Copyright 2021 Paul Thomson...

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I don’t know how to write this poem;
I’m nauseous and depressed.
Instead of moving forward,
Seems this country has regressed.

I’m fearful for the future
And I shudder at the thought
Of a leader whose demeanor
Such divisiveness has wrought.

There’s a black cloud that’s descended,
Filling half of us with dread
But we have to keep our strength up
For the battles still ahead....

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And He
my dearest
maturest mate to date
has bitterly regressed
to a child irate
from man of logic
to impish state
a hexer vile
filled with hate
while I don't believe
I've changed a bit
he thinks me evil
my mother split
as saccharin 
as the Harpie race
bewitching temptress
evil face
necessity
I do suppose
for his childish fit
to so dispose


Dug out of an old journal for John Lawless' Go Ahead I Dare Ya!!! Contest...

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Drenched from head to toe
soaked and soiled.
A victim yet again
to my own self doubt.

The drive in me is gone
my desire vanished without a trace.
Yet this is only the start of my,
self induced drought.

The circulation of self hate
the arterial decay coupled with,
veinous collapse.

The childlike tantrums have increased again.
It's but true,I have regressed.

Perhaps I will survive this plight
for its only 3 days til daylight...

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It's tough to pen those first few lines
It happens to me all the time
Anew I start idea-less
With pounding head, internal stress
I often yearn to just resign...

It matters not if sun does shine
I need some rules, some fixed guidelines
To launch a verse into process
Those first few lines

You may suggest a glass of wine
To help me find my inner rhyme
I tried that once, my pen regressed
Out spilled an alcoholic mess
Which sober judged as asinine --
Those first few lines...

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