Customize Consent Preferences

We use cookies to help you navigate efficiently and perform certain functions. You will find detailed information about all cookies under each consent category below.

The cookies that are categorized as "Necessary" are stored on your browser as they are essential for enabling the basic functionalities of the site. ... 

Always Active

Necessary cookies are required to enable the basic features of this site, such as providing secure log-in or adjusting your consent preferences. These cookies do not store any personally identifiable data.

No cookies to display.

Functional cookies help perform certain functionalities like sharing the content of the website on social media platforms, collecting feedback, and other third-party features.

No cookies to display.

Analytical cookies are used to understand how visitors interact with the website. These cookies help provide information on metrics such as the number of visitors, bounce rate, traffic source, etc.

No cookies to display.

Performance cookies are used to understand and analyze the key performance indexes of the website which helps in delivering a better user experience for the visitors.

No cookies to display.

Advertisement cookies are used to provide visitors with customized advertisements based on the pages you visited previously and to analyze the effectiveness of the ad campaigns.

No cookies to display.

Most Days Are - A Poem by J.K. Durick - Dive into the Depths of Contemporary Voices

Most Days Are – A Poem by J.K. Durick

Jigsaw puzzles, nothing more– pieces spread out on the table or
floor, needing attention, border pieces are easiest to find, to align
borders, boundaries, a bit of sky, a few clouds – the tabs, loops,
levels, interlocking patterns, doorways, then blurry faces, a flight
of stairs going to the edge, off into nothing, nowhere, in this two-dimensional place we live through contrast, color, contour, measure
style and shape, hand and eye move separately, put together a piece
here, another there, the day progresses, if we kept score it’s more
like a tie, with time running out, we dread continuing, an overtime
session never goes well, there will always be a piece or two missing.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Best Poetry Online