We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage / And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, / We Poets of the proud old lineage / Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ... (James Elroy Flecker)

24.9.25

Escapist

 

I watch my mind

fall into fictions – 

as a flower might drop

from a blossoming tree,

or a petal

from a single flower.


Reality’s an ugly weed.

Lacking power (since when

could poets save the world?)

I succumb to escape …

gradually losing all petals.



Written for Quadrille Monday 22 Sept '25, at dVerse.



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2 comments:

  1. brudberg24 September 2025 at 23:00

    I think that poets may change the world... but we will never see it because its effect is so small it takes eons to happen

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Rosemary Nissen-Wade24 September 2025 at 23:12

      Now there's an interesting thought! And if we postulate that the effect could be collective ...

      Delete

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