I've got this collection of ideas, phrases, half written poems that it just put aside to work on later. There's no time stamp on when the originals were written down. Some may go back as far as 4-5 years ago. It's kind of fun to revisit these bits and pieces and work on making each one a "complete" poem.
Reflections
Beyond
sight, beyond the fragile veil
where
thought haunts consciousness.
That's
where my Self lives, forever
perplexed
by its own existence.
One day a
child, the next an old man
who can
barely remember his own name.
Asphalt
roads, the wooded trail
where
autumn leaves go to die
at the
hands of solemn crows.
The
memories gather 'round
an empty
grave so dark, so black
the
bottom can't be seen.
That's
where I live most days, these days.
Staring
at the reflection
hovering
in the window glass,
trying
desperately to remember
what the
hell I look like.
Woodie
11-28-18
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