by Richard Vince

Where do the poets go
When they have been everywhere?
There is nowhere new for me,
It seems, so I find myself
Revisiting old territory.

Perhaps, when I have finally
Grown up, I will write like Tennyson
Of how my headstrong youth
Has given way to serene maturity,
But my wanderlust is undiminished.

Somehow, though, there is
Nothing new now. I write of
The same mysteries, the same fears,
The same regrets of the same heart
As I did years ago, as though part of me
Is stuck somewhere in the past.

There is no new insight to be
Gained; the same thoughts and feelings
Pour out in the same ink
Onto the same paper.

Perhaps I have been everywhere.
Perhaps the answer is
They just go everywhere again.


Posted on 11/09/2012
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 11/09/12 at 10:53 PM

I'm good with any territory your writing visits, man, because it's always worth checking out. Awesome.

Posted by George Hoerner on 11/10/12 at 01:46 PM

Sometimes when we go to the same place from a different direction we see it in a new perspective. A woman may have a different smile or a flower has a different shade. Nice write Richard.

Posted by Laura Doom on 11/11/12 at 01:50 PM

There's a lot to be said for repetition, so everyone tells me...

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