A Sinking Bottle (She Explained, Softly) – A Poem by Paul Tristram
I’m all cried out, one minute,
then waterfall full the next.
The Sun still shines…
but, it’s always somewhere else… yonder.
I hate that word ‘Yonder’
for you can walk all day and night,
until your weary, battered feet
blister and bleed
and you are never any closer to it.
I have great self control,
I will not succumb to the traps
of ‘Covetousness’ nor ‘Envy’
but, ‘Yearning’ masters me truly.
The ‘Feeling’ started
like a Pebble being dropped into a Well.
A falling sensation, giddying at first,
then later… quite sickening.
The Well eventually changed,
reformed into a tumultuous Ocean.
The Pebble an uncorked Bottle,
slave to all external currents
and full up to the very brim
with the ‘Thing’ which is forever
dragging and pulling it downwards.
More at https://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
