We Pretend We Play With Words
to soothe the choking effects of the day,
and those days that come to us like two walls
while we lay helpless in between, we pretend
we pretend to play with words, like we are simply
children scribbling words on the floor beyond
the ambit of paper
we pretend that this writing is nothing but little games.
we like to be just light feathers floating in the wind
looking at the petal of the flower
trying to choose which patch of grass to land,
we pretend this is just that
doodles, noodles, needles, neddles, doddles,
we pretend that this writing poetry has nothing to do
with what we are: feelings like words in a crossword puzzle
we tinker with meanings, we like to experiment with moods,
like handpainting on the walls and spraying paint
at the fences of our bad neighbors
trying to evade laws, of falling and flying and rising and dropping,
this is just a play of words, do not ask me again if i am in between the
lines if there are tears there, or that laughter and mockery is hidden
underneath the cover of heavy sheets of sentences
we pretend there is nothing to all these.
when we stop, when that right time comes
it will be dark, and we like children all stop playing and shouting
and running and kidding and calling each other names
when we stop it is always dark. The fear is lost. It is time to go.
Home. Where we are united with our loved ones. Where we begin to
speak the truth about us. Where we sleep. Where all the lights are
turned off.
We give way for the moon to shine above our silent roofs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
