Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nat Lipstadt Feb 13
10:14am 1-28-25

the word above is a most singular
in our lingual language

of the ailments many,
varied, variegated and
necessarily interconnected
so they all merge and blend
like a frothy cappuccino ,
a melding of ill
rather than a blending
of distilled ailments

the state of being remedied,
is hard to be measured
for it moves  
tes like a target,
minute to minute,
hour to hour,
drop to drop of time

what is remedied
year to year,
crossing centurial diversionary linear
artifice

those Marked as fully repaired,
handled, resolved with a crossing out
lineage honorific, can never be dismissed
or erased for sure,
for fully surety is intermediary

for the heart can break at any minute,
in any place, external, internal, and a
daily baby aspirin can’t prevent, only
lessen the unanticipated frequency

we are decaying units, and patches
upon patches hold us together until
the adhesives of remedies remind us
of their very own half~lives

why a band-aid is only
a band-aid and remedies are only
remedial
onlylovepoetry Dec 2023
Pradip marks the slow disappearance of faces in the market,
unknown yet familiar and thus important to the senses,
for our eyes crave continuity, comfort reassuring that time,
even time that robber par excellent, still provides some comfort
to our souls, in its own way, even the faces of strangers in familiar places are road markers, bookmarks, that even the known unknown offer a measure of solace, as we traverse the old familiar places
of daily life.

it must be remedied. some of you know that I make not idle promises,
that my promises to be there are effected, for I am affected by the
repair of the world in little, measurable manners, so the iCal calendar
modified with a Visit Pradip++, a new addition…

and on the way there
are few more exotic places where poetry grows that
will require some
layover visitations…

only time in its theiving secretive ways stands between me and
you denied grasping arms, taking the measure physical of a
beating heart
and river-wide smile,
maybe even I’ll practice with a trip to
remote foreign places, which they speak
the languages of poetry too,
Snake River, even Iowa!

olp/n.n.

— The End —