What would Wordsworth say
About today’s poetry,
About the over-saturation of words,
“Spontaneously over-flowing”
or a cry for help? In
A world burgeoning in self-deprecation
And violent human provocation
Some words sink to the bottom
And some float to the top
In dead zone books
Of undercurrents
Often called education
Where thousands of miles away
Intelligence is dictated by the few
And for the many
Where the loss of the value
for nature and
A forgotten art of pondering daffodils
In the stillness of a wild field
Is the real deficit
We are looking for.
The thoughts of half a century sway
Unsteadily in my mind
And I want to get away
From what is surely my own death throes
Of expectations
Dissipating slowly in
This mid-night hour
Starless and moonless,
Blocking out the noise that is my life
And merging into the soul of the earth
Where money no longer chains me
In that vicious cycle of measurements
In words that analyze
Haves and
Have not.
April 18, 2015
hinarising 