The Lake
A poem about the lake
The Lake looks lovely with this
thick wet Okie raincoat
the hand-me-down tough luck of hands done
handing
hard to say which way
we went wrong
but it damn sure may've been
leaving here
the way we did
all fly by the night and
smug for it
to the promised land
with a chip on our shoulder or
off the old block
as the tongue knows to say
and we all nod along like
we know too
where we're getting at
why we left or if
how we do it makes a difference
I don’t know, but
I do know that
When is a revolving door
I have grown tired of fixing
so it sticks until it becomes,
just is, the dumb luck
buddha,
the infinite reduced to stuck awkward
glass alcove door jam,
to nodding along to nothing
until it offs us
hopeful
begging, even
the revolver's dare, or
whatever we said
When was
is catching up to us
quick as a hangnail
but The Lake
sure does look lovely with this
thick wet Okie raincoat
handed down
again
Thanks for reading y’all,
Alex
Hearing you read helps to understand meaning thru your inflection. The ever cycling/flowing water transports, that revolving door, stuck, yet still flowing that lake, like life. Always moving even if we feel stuck it doesn't stop. Thankfully or we may not escape the trap of the revolving door, whether circling or stuck. Nice reading, good imagery too. God bless you.
Marvelous poetry! A lake, a river, the sea, make me feel so peaceful. Sometimes, my son and I go on a " nowhere " ride. And, when a lake or any kind of water surface made by Mother Nature, appears, I can't stop smiling. There is something about that, that revives me. Thank you for the poem and the beautiful picture! Take care!