Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.
I’m not very poetic by nature. In fact, sometimes, poetry frightens me. I’ve read a fair share of poetry in my life, some of which I muse about to this day. However, on multiple occasions, I’ve read something that intrigued me; but for the life of me, I could not quite understand what was being said. Maybe I have a long way to go before I learn to comprehend the nuances of poetry, or maybe I just need to keep an open mind while reading and let my imagination flow. Either way, I think it’s a brilliant creative outlet and perhaps someday, I’ll be able to write a piece that I’m truly proud of.
I have a huge fear that maybe someone reading this won’t get the idea I’m trying to convey, partly because I decided to restrict myself at every line, as you shall see. So, the gist of what I’ve written is that at some level, we’re all probably trapped, maybe in a difficult situation or just generally in life. And that maybe, while we’re struggling and flailing about to free ourselves, we’re missing out on a lot that the world has to offer. I also acknowledge the seemingly arbitrary shift of pronoun from “they” to “we” somewhere in the middle, but I began to feel preachy so I decided to make it more self-inclusive.
I wish I could’ve been clearer in the poem itself, but I wanted to use only certain kind of words in a given line, hence the ambiguity.
Writhe, wince, whine, wail,
Tortured – ‘tis a terrible tale.
Waiting while the world went its way,
Trapped to the teeth, troubled were they.
Then tied with tassles, trembling in the tower?
Caged? Could be. Condemned to cower.
Or overtly oppressed or ostracized,
Perhaps, purposely paralyzed?
Time trickles, trips, then tosses in torrents,
Still, some seem senseless to sights, sounds, scents.
Failing to fathom life’s freedom and fullness,
Did we diminish our lives, doomed to dullness?
Cages can crack, chase your calling,
Tumble the towers, time’s a-ticking.
Soar some skies, swim some seas,
Feel fiery, fulfilled and fly free.