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the black sea
by Laura Doomwhen life's complexities
make unreasonable demands
for the return of quietude
there is nowhere to hide
but the obscurity in dreams
at a depth beyond caring
inspiration is irrelevant
ambition immeasurable
sex inconsequential
imagination feeds itself
on the comfort of knowing
i may simply die
of boredom 03/05/2013 Posted on 03/05/2013
Copyright © 2024 Laura Doom
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 03/06/13 at 02:15 AM Boredom m'lady is lack of involvement. If you can’t find something on which to let your attention take hold of you aren’t trying. At least you keep writing so what else would it take to make you not bored? |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 03/08/13 at 11:43 PM My state of mind exactly right now, Laura. Thanks for putting it so aptly into words. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 03/13/13 at 01:19 PM [...] Well, I think that your involvement is perpetually in immeasurable evolvement. [...]
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| Posted by Jody Pratt on 03/14/13 at 08:45 PM Fantastic and can relate! |
| Posted by Rob Littler on 08/16/13 at 05:54 AM This could be an ad for poetic lunesta: for the sleep-deprived dream-deferred take a break for the day and enter into the bliss where the mind can be allowed to be bored to nothingness, which is the goal for enlightenment anyway, eh? I will certainly sleep better having read this on my way to nigh-nigh. |
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