Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
don-bouchardPoems
For a year or possibly more, Decompression begins: Purging electricity, electronics. Fall away, Internet, Oh! No more cellular, **** the television set, Except, perhaps, a radio, Lest I totally forget.... Hello, paper, Hello, books, Come off the shelves; Lose those ***** looks, Warm again before my eyes, Feel the press of my writing stick. Thoreau, the fakir, Left the social order Just a year, Though just how far He really went Remains foggily unclear, And the fact that he returned Suggests that Nature Left him feeling burned. So, like a diver, Rising from the deep, I'd take a while to meditate, To let the busyness-es go And put electric dreams to sleep.
0
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 1:26 PM UTC
Were I to go to the woods
For a year or possibly more, Decompression begins: Purging electricity, electronics. Fall away, Internet, Oh! No more cellular, **** the television set, Except, perhaps, a radio, Lest I totally forget.... Hello, paper, Hello, books, Come off the shelves; Lose those ***** looks, Warm again before my eyes, Feel the press of my writing stick. Thoreau, the fakir, Left the social order Just a year, Though just how far He really went Remains foggily unclear, And the fact that he returned Suggests that Nature Left him feeling burned. So, like a diver, Rising from the deep, I'd take a while to meditate, To let the busyness-es go And put electric dreams to sleep.
I was asked what I'd do if I were to find myself a year in solitude. Aside from the needfulness or learning and re-learning survival methods, this is what I came up with....
#thoreau#woods#busyness#peace#dreams
don-bouchard
Written by
don-bouchard
66/M/American
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 1:26 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem