Our next exercise tonight was to write either a complete physical description of an object and then relate these descriptive words to a family member, or to write about an abstraction. When the abstraction, “confusion,” was suggested, I immediately knew where my affinity lay. I am on intimate terms with confusion. For challenge, I decided to try to write it as a rhymed poem. I think it came out okay.
I watch the morning sun arise
and bring forth new that day
a sense of hopeless loss and fear
and watching all that lay
about my mind in tangled mess
and muddy thoughts profound.
No simple loss of innocence
could ease that scentless hound.
The morning sun, it never changes
yet never is the same.
The ice of frozen memories
melt little with its flame.
How, and who, and why, and what
the questions all abound–
the rock tied to the rope of thought
tossed random all around.
No home in thee. No home for me.
My unbound thoughts no rest.
No glassy lake of mirrored sheen
to help my mind do best.
The morning sun now in the noon.
The time goes back and forth.
Scrambled eggs of lunchtime sup
and Eastward goes the North.
And so my face goes upside-down
to match my state of brain,
and the morning sun now rise to night
to fall up-down again.