I used to have a wardrobe full of black looks,
and a shelf full of dark books.
Teenage goth; what can I say,
midnight used to last all day.
There is nothing wrong with that rite,
but have you ever switched on a torch on a gloomy soupy night?
Rigid fracturing beams of white attack
spidery fissures that behave like dreams.
Soft edges battle blurred spaces…
Your eyes falter,
at the sight of contrasting places.
Since then I always put my glasses on as soon as I wake up,
then marvel at the spectrum of my drawer of socks.
It’s a rainbow that doesn’t need a cloud.
It isn’t a pot of gold,
but it will follow my footsteps,
as I grow old.
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Author:
Brimelow (
Offline) - Published: March 18th, 2021 15:09
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 33
Offline)
Comments6
Engaging poem 🙂 I especially like the last verse . Good poem , I liked reading . I’m assuming the colour of socks has changed to something colourful ? Hence the term rainbow ?
For sure! I used to work in an office with a manager I called "The Sock Nazi" because he hated odd socks (lovely chap otherwise haha). Every morning he asked to see my socks, and for 1200+ days in a row I showed him odd socks. I used to revel in it when I got dressed out of the shower, hell I started asking for stupid socks for Christmas! I don't really wear odd socks now (because I have a different job and the amusing game is gone!), but they most definitely aren't all black at least 🙂
Very nice! X
Love this poem and the trip it takes you on and the thiught it provokes
Yes I’ll pay that one – it is gently witty with an ironical view of a younger self, bought up to date with a slightly absurd twist – socks…really? What about the rest of your attire?
Since we are all products of our past experience, a strange employment relationship reported in the comments thread would seem to have had a rather significant influence on you.
Good fun.
Good write Brimelow. Since retiring I always wear odd socks the more garish the better.
Andy
a war cry to that unbreaking spirit of self preservation,
in our washing machine turmoil of life, we may be forced to bend for stretches at-a-time,
but: for us to never surrender, need only take a few colourful displays of wilful socks choices..
a great write dear poet!
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