Just discovered Writers Island days after discovering Poetry Thursdays which apparently is deceased, or at least in exile, having evolved into some sort of travelling wordshow. Anyway, been reading a lot of great work on people’s blogs and am excited to have happened upon a new community of writers. Here’s my go at this week’s theme, which i must say, had my imagination reeling, after all, all i do is write and re-write this life with imagination ink.
in my imaginary life
i am a full-time poet
and a part-time everything else
people leave me to my crooked shack
and don’t ask what I do down there
or why I drink so much green tea
or arrange and rearrange rocks on the beach
or why my shack is so crooked
I never have to answer
the question “when will you find time
to read all those books?”
because all I have is time
for reading
writing
and dreaming
with open eyes
never once in my imaginary life
do I feel guilty
for being idle
or lost in other worlds
in my imaginary life
it is enough
just to sit and
sift silence
until a poem
falls
to
the page
in my imaginary life I am free
to contemplate existing in
an entirely imaginary world
indistinguishable from my
so called real-life
in my imaginary life
there are no clocks or cell phones
or cars without mufflers
or misconceptions of the value
of poetry
in my imaginary life
the people realize
suddenly
all of them
that the motion of this life
be it imaginary or otherwise
the buzzing and twirling of
so many unseen particles
colliding and copulating
spreading dew and fog and light and color
are all poems
rejoicing at their release from
that place where unimaginable things
are kept
waiting for the one who will
imagine
in my imaginary life
I imagine that I have been here
all along imagining something better
in my imaginary life
I am not a kid who
grew up
and had a kid
and still wishes
he was a kid
but rather a kid who
grew up and up
into a big kid
with an overactive
imagination
Jonas Lamb 