There are times
when I think I've outgrown you.
I squeeze myself
into your casing.
I look foolish.
Every embarrasing detail
on display.
Then there are times
when I think you are too big.
I'm lost in your bulk.
A child draped in fabric.
foolish again.
Either way
you just don't fit
me
the way you used to.
2 comments:
Lately this blog has been painful. I literally have no words or ideas to the point where I am questioning my abilities. Damn you blog. Damn you to hell. Although, I think I have a few ideas, so I'm gonna try to be back to posting every day.
I couldn't agree with your comment more. Maybe there's something about the 120 poem mark where suddenly the boulder rolls back down the hill. I thought I had writer's block before but now it's ridiculous. Just look at the talented folk who for the most part have quit posting (to much disappointment). I read a quote somewhere that says something like writers write even when they don't want to. So I guess we have to keep on plugging.
In regards to your poem, I like the pun with your title. Well played. Your poem really is "fitting" (I couldn't resist) for the frustration of this blog. The word "casing" seems out of place because I picture clothing especially with the word "fabric" in the second stanza, but the images you conjure up here are quite excellent.
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